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thehighladywrites · 5 months

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The Airhead Chronicles

…and the date

-> pairing: cassian x bimbo/ditzy reader

-> summary: finally the day is here, you’re going on a date with cassian!! now you just have to prepare and get ready for it. Cassian is prepared to finally ask you some questions and the mention of your secret friend rubs him the wrong way. But how does the date go, and who on earth opens the door at Cassian’s friends house?…

-> warnings: suggestive themes, nsfw, smut, super fluff, light angst, public sex, yeah, none of you care about getting caught fucking in a restaurant, oral (m.receiving) , bargain tattoos, almost oral (f.receiving), wing play, daddy kink

-> amara’s note: I think this is one of my fav things to write, I really love ditzy reader, she's so fun and cute.

part 1 part 2

Startled by a sudden knock, you quickly stood up, intrigued by the unexpected visitor. Opening the door, you were met with a smiling man.

“Hi there pretty lady, are you Y/n?” he asked. After exchanging pleasantries, he handed you a paper and a pen, insisting you sign.

Curious, you replied, “Oh, what’s this for, I’m pretty sure I didn’t order anything, or did I?” Sensing your confusion, the man stepped closer and pointed a finger at a dotted line. “Just sign here, baby. How about I come in and show you?”

Normally, you'd agree to some help because you didn’t really like reading long and confusing papers, but with your date approaching, you looked at him apologetic and declined.

“Sorry, maybe next time. I'm getting ready for a date with this really hot guy, and I have a lot of things to do. But why am I signing this?”

His face turned sour, and he threw a bouquet of flowers at you, muttering something about a special delivery before you signed. He left without saying goodbye, and you tilted your head, wondering if you said something to upset him.

The confusion quickly left your mind when you looked down, eyes wide, and heart beating faster as a huge smile spread on your lips. The bouquet was wrapped around white and pink baby breaths and peonies. You let out a shriek of happiness as you spun around and smelled the fresh, fragrant flowers. They were unlike anything else, handled with care and professionalism.

Scurrying to the kitchen, you pulled out a vase from your cabinets as you filled it with water to put your flowers in. While you fiddled with the petals, you saw a note attached as you opened it.

Reading the note, your eyes lit up with excitement. You twirled around, a broad grin on displayed, absorbing the message:

“Can’t wait to see you tonight, beautiful. I will pick you up, just be ready by 8. - Cassian.”

You halted your twirl, taking a deep breath.

Fucking Gods, you had to look absolutely stunnig, like drop-dead gorgeous. The sexiest dress was a non-negotiable, paired with a cute bag. Your hair needed to be freshly styled, and ohhh, a fresh set of nails was a must, even though it hadn't been a week since your last set.

Let’s be real, you knew you were pretty and didn’t need someone to tell you that, but it was nice to hear nonetheless, especially from Cassian. It was weird, you had known him for just over a week and already you felt a connection to him.

With your plans set, you dove into the whirlwind of preparation. The closet became a battleground of choices as you sifted through dresses, searching for the one that screamed "fuck me right now, please." The chosen outfit hung proudly on the door, awaiting its moment. A stunning sheer black dress with a v-neck, a thigh-high slit, and the best part - it sparkled.

Your hair received the full treatment of preparation and care, making you wonder how you’d display it tonight—curls, an updo, low bun or straight? The decision was as crucial as the dress itself, because what if you wanted to blow him? A ponytail would be ideal, but if you were gonna be fucked missionairy then a ponytail would be super uncomfy. Maybe just some curls then? Yes, you definitely wanted some bouncy curls resulting in you pulling out your hair rollers and pins. It was such a pain to put them on because your arms hurt from keeping them up but you didn’t care. Finally, a cute little bag accompanied the ensemble, adding that perfect touch paired with some simple heels.

The urgency for flawlessness led you to contemplate a fresh set of nails. Despite the recent pampering, the allure of perfection beckoned, and you found yourself on the way to the nail salon. After all, a week felt like an eternity when it came to looking drop-dead gorgeous.

As the appointment at the nail salon progressed, you debated between daring and classic shades. The manicurist, familiar to your frequent visits, skillfully crafted a fresh set that made you smile so hard, your face started hurting, letting out an excited sound.

With your nails perfected, you rushed home to continue the transformation, hair and makeup being the last step. Your dress clung to you like a second skin, accentuating every curve. Your reflection in the mirror confirmed your pursuit of drop-dead hotness. Smiling at yourself you adjusted your hair before putting on your jewelry, marveling at the final result. You really hoped Cassian would compliment you otherwise you’d die. His attention was so addicting and you wanted to be around him every single second for some reason.

Glancing at the clock, you realized the incoming arrival of Cassian. The butterflies in your stomach intensified as you added the finishing touches, ready to open the door to a night filled with excitement and allure.

“Hi Cassie!!” Your smile subdued a bit as you shifted nervously when he just stared at you not saying anything. Should you have worn something different? Maybe gone with the pink you wanted? Maybe he didn’t like your hair…

Cassian stood at the door, his eyes widening as he took in your stunning transformation. His brain seemed to short-circuit, and he simply stared at you with his jaw open, momentarily lost for words in the face of your breathtaking appearance. The snug fabric around your frame made blood rush to his cock, a reaction that almost tempted him to slap his own face. "Am I some kind of teenager or something, gods," he thought to himself, caught in the unexpected whirlwind of emotions your presence stirred.

“Hi sweetheart, fuck, you look absolutely breathtaking,” he managed to exclaim, a genuine smile lighting up his face. He spun you around, getting a good luck at you as your perfume filled his nose. Blushing at the compliment, you replied with a happy smile. “Thank you, Cassie. I'm so excited for tonight! Where are we going?”

He offered his arm, and you linked yours with his as you both stepped into the night, ready for the date that awaited. “Don’t worry your pretty, little head about it, it’s a surprise, sweet girl.”

Thank fuck he held you, because you could barely stand with the way your knees wobbled. The urge to just shove him in an alley and give him some life-changing head was just too strong. Cassian looked soooo freaking hot, dressed in a well-fitted suit.His hair had been put in a half bun, arms looking soooo massive, and an inexplicable desire to bite them tugged at your thoughts.

Caught in the spell of his side profile , the world around you seemed to fade into the background. Cassian’s voice became a distant hum as your eyes glued to him.

Your mind went hazy as you found yourself daydreaming about him, captivated by the allure of the moment.

Cassian halted mid-sentence in his talk about the restaurant when he noticed your silence. Curiosity painted his expression as he looked down at you, only to find you hazily looking up at him. Your plump lips were slightly parted, and your eyes were wide and sparkly, lost in a momentary enchantment.

Cassian was going to treat himself to some of Rhysands expensive liquor, it was truly something magical about his restraint. The way you looked up to him made his cock painfully hard. There was something submissive and desperate in your gaze. Before he cancelled the night and took you to his room to fuck you senseless, he broke the silence, chuckling, “I must be boring you with all this restaurant talk. What’s on your mind?”

You blinked, snapping out of the enchantment, and mumbled while feeling warm. “Um, no, not at all, Cassie. I was just… appreciating the view.”

His eyebrows lifted in playful surprise, “The view? Of me?”

You nodded with a secretive grin, “Guilty… I mean I can’t help it. You look so handsome. Now tell me about the restaurant.” The conversation resumed, but the sparkle of that moment lingered, adding an extra layer of magic to the evening.

Your brows furrowed as you read the menu. What on earth was an entrecôte? Foie gras? Was that some sort of joke? It was infuriating and you just wanted some food. Looking up at Cassian, you noticed he had already decided and was looking through the wine list. Feeling helpless, you whispered to him, “Um Cassie, I don’t know what this means. If any of this means mushrooms and cilantro, then let me know, they’re super yucky.”

He took your menu and brought your hand up to place a kiss on it, “Don’t worry, pretty girl. I’ll take care of it. How does chicken sound?” You nodded, grateful for the escape from the decision-making. Ugh, was being pretty and living too hard? You just wanted to exist without thinking about annoying things.

Cassian certainly eased it for you.

“Uh-huh, yes please,” you replied. He tilted his head, a playful smile playing on his lips. “My, what good manners you have. A good girl indeed.”

The echo of Cassian calling you a good girl sent a shiver down your spine, nearly sending you into a dreamy state. Resisting the magnetic pull of his warmth became a challenge.

Would it really hurt though? Cassian had rented out an entire section of the restaurant for your date, the only other person you’d see during the whole night was a waiter who kept away unless he was serving you food.

Unable to resist any longer, you inched toward him, lifting yourself. Cassian, sitting manspread, welcomed you onto one of his thighs. As you settled, his arm snaked behind your back, keeping you securely in place as you slung your arm over his shoulder while the other traced circles and shapes on his chest. The world outside this private bubble faded, leaving just the two of you in a cocoon of shared warmth and intimacy.

The waiter discreetly approached, and Cassian smoothly placed the order, his attention never wavering from you. The world outside this secluded moment ceased to exist. He was so content he almost forgot one of the reasons he had been so desperate to see you again. Placing a sweet kiss on your cheek and neck, he asked.

“ I’ve been wondering,” he began, his eyes holding a mixture of curiosity and concern, “ There’s not a lot a know about you, and i’d like to change that. I mean have you always lived in Velaris?” You hummed and answered cheerfully, “ No, I used to live in the Hewn City but a friend helped me move here. My family still live there but they think I live in the Day Court, since Velaris is a secret city and all.”

He observed you carefully, wondering what possible friend could’ve gotten you into Velaris without him or the inner circle knowing? Velaris wasn’t some place one just moved to, it was a secret and protected city, warded against anyone who wasn’t welcome. Your answer only made him more curious.

“Yeah, your friend helped you? Do they live here?” You giggled as you looked at him with a “duh” look.

“Of course my friend still lives here, what a silly question! We meet once a month to catch up and he sometimes brings the family to our get-togethers.”

“ How fun, sweet girl. You’ll have to introduce me to your friend, yeah?” you leaned in as his arm became a comforting weight around your waist.

“Yay, that would be so much fun! He’s like this super old guy that I work for but I promise he’s really funny and his wife is such a sweetheart, I love her.” His heart thundred at the excitement you unknowingly pushed through the bond, making him crack a huge smile. Heavens, your were so adorable, he wanted to see you smile forever. “Is he a good boss then? What is it you do for him?” Flashing him a secret smile, you leaned in conspiratorially as you started playing with the buttons of his crisp white shirt.

“I wish I could tell you Cassie, but it’s tip-top secret and I’m bound to never, ever in a million years tell a single soul. I even have this cool tattoo for it.” You whispered as if afraid anyone would hear you before pulling down the strap of your dress and showing him the bargain tattoo.

Cassian's expression froze, his mind racing to fathom the deal you might have struck. Did you grasp the consequences of Night Court's bargain tattoos? The kind of searing fucking pain that awaited anyone attempting to breach its secrecy? The instincts that come with a mating bond made him feel murdereous at the thought of anyone striking a dangerous deal with his mate.

He didn’t want you experiencing the pain of accidentally telling him about the bargain, so he dropped the subject completely, picking up new things to talk about. While waiting for the meal, you tried to attentively listen as Cassian, the general and commander of the Night Court as he had told you, told you the tales of his thrilling adventures and loving family. But he sometimes used big words that made you tilt your head in confusion, he had however noticed it early on and switched to more simple terms, ensuring your understanding of the topic.

Of all of your years living, you had never felt so safe and cared for as you did here with Cassian. Sure your parents never laid hands on you but they certainly didn’t like you very much, calling you incapable and downright stupid. It hurt you, it really did because you tried but it simply wasn’t as easy as it sounded. Cassian, this gorgeous man, noticed you didn’t understand but he didn’t outright dumb it down for you.

He… just used another word with the same meaning he explained and it really made you happy. Because for some reason, his approval and attention was necessary for you to function and you literally couldn’t imagine him ever being disappointed in you.

After dessert was served, Cassian told the waiter and the chef that you were done eating and paid the bill, leaving a generous tip. They left you all alone in your section and the seclusion made you more bold. You certainly didn’t care if anyone saw you blowing him or anything but… it felt more intimate doing in just for him. You were still sat on his thigh as he spoon fed you the delicious chocolate cake.

Chills ran down your arms upon locking eyes with Cassian, and from your position, you explored his face, fingertips tracing a scar along his eyebrow. Your hand moved over his cheekbones, jaw, nose, and finally, his flawless lips. Drawing close, you both whispered intimately, “Can I kiss you, sweetheart?” he rasped, to which you replied in a hushed tone, “Yes, please, Cassie.”

With a tender murmur he said, “my perfect girl,” his soft lips met yours.

As the kiss unfolded, time seemed to slow, encapsulating you both in a world of shared warmth and intimacy. Cassian's lips, soft against yours, the room faded away, leaving only the electric energy between you two. You had kissed plenty people before, but nothing felt as addictive and pleasurable as this.

Cassian’s body shaped perfectly against yours as he pulled you on his lap, making you straddle his hips, legs on either side of him as your dress bunched. His hair was pulled out of his bun as you dragged your manicured nails across his scalp.

He out out a groan as his hands found your hips, his hold tightening as he ground upwards making you moan at the contact.

Breaking the kiss, Cassian's eyes held a newfound tenderness and hunger. “You're something else, you know that?” he whispered, his voice carrying a mix of admiration and affection. A shared smile lingered between you, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken emotions that had just passed between your lips.

A loud shatter was heard as you looked up panting, absolutely forgetting that you two may have a section rented out, but you were still out in public and if anyone wanted to stretch their legs, they certainly wouldn’t miss you grinding in Cassian’s lap, lips puffy and hair tousled.

Cassian couldn’t have cared less even of he tried to. Being the lord of bloodshed, the general leading the armies of the night court, and one of the greatest warriors in the history of Prythian granted Cassian liberties in his eyes. Unlike ordinary fae males, he wasn't restricted from openly displaying affection for his mate at any time or place. There wasn’t a person on earth that could tell him what to do with you.

Fucking in public didn’t scare him or make him feel embarrassed. No, Cassian fucking loved the thrill of being caught. Loved the little voice in his head telling him that someone would be walking in on him pleasuring his mate, your face scrunched up in pleasure as someone catches you, your heartbeat quickening at the taboo scene.

But he’d never in his life put you in a position that made you uncomfortable, he’d rather chop his cock off. So he looked at your face, searching for any fear.

“You okay? Wanna stop, baby?” The thought of you getting off his lap and feeling shame or embarrasement was enough to make him feel nauseous. But that all quickly left when you looked down at him with blushy cheeks, a wide grin on your face as you laughed. “Wow, that sounded really close. Guess you better fuck me quickly Cassie, we wouldn’t want someone to catch us, now would we? I mean that would be soooo bad and we’d be kicked out, right?”

Cassian easily detected the false concern written all over your face. There was a blend of amusement, warmth, and hunger in your expression. You playfully pouted, furrowing your brows in mock thinking as you tilted your head.

Looking up darkly at you he flashed you a feral grin, furrowing his brow in mock thinking. “Of course. It would be very, very bad if someone caught me with my head between your legs, I mean whatever would we do?”

You stood up, hopping up on the table in front of him, propped up like a post-dessert treat with your legs spread infront of his hungry gaze.

“ Let’s find out. I think you missed some of your dessert, baby. Come eat me up, Cassie…” He put his hands around your ankles as he removed your heels, then hissed when he felt your stocking-clad foot rub against his strained cock. Your eyes caught his wings ruffling as curiosity prompted your question.

“Cassie, why are your wings so big? Can I touch them or would it hurt?”

His wings rustled, then tightened in instinct. Illyrian wings were absolutely not to be touched by anyone without invitation, they were to be protected at any cost. His people had been taught to never let anyone get close enough to them, often punching first and then asking questions if someone ever touched them.

“No, sweet girl, they wouldn’t hurt if you touched them. It’s just a sacred part of me that I as an Illyrian protect with my life.” You observed the intricate patterns on his wings, fascinated by the interplay of light and shadow, gold and read hues swirling.

Cassian, sensing your curiosity, continued, “Touching them is a privilege reserved for the one I’ll one day trust deeply, a gesture of profound connection between two mates.” His gaze held a promise, hinting at a deeper connection yet to unfold. You slumped slighty as you realized that you probably weren’t his mate and quickly lowered you rising hand.

“Oh, okay then. They seem really cool anyways, your future mate is quite lucky huh?” Your eyes met his own filled with longing and hope.

Growing up in The Hewn City, the stories of mates filled your imagination, creating a yearning for a connection forged by The Mother Herself. However, your parents swiftly dismissed any ideas of such fantasies, emphasizing a more practical approach to your future. The concept of a deep, equal partnership and lover was a cherished daydream, overshadowed by the reality your parents presented.

Amidst gossip with friends about the mysterious idea of mates, your parents insisted on abandoning these fairytales. Their focus remained fixed on preparing you for a marriage that would secure wealth and influence, mirroring the traditions of countless pairs in the city. The prospect of bringing shame to the family loomed as an unthinkable consequence, one that could lead to disownment or in some cases death.

You were incredibly fortunate to have made a friend that helped you out, otherwise you’d probably be some unhappy bride whose only task would be baby-making and keeping quiet.

Your eyes filled with tears as you started thinking about the male infront of you. If the bond hadn’t snapped for you yet, then you probably weren’t mates and it made you sick thinking that there was someone else out there who’d snatch Cassian up. A hand brushing up your calf brought you back to reality as you were met with eyes filled with worries.

“No, hey, what's going on, sweetheart? Why are you crying, hm?” Cassian asked, concern etched across his face. Overwhelmed by sadness, you slumped forward, letting out deep sobs.

"Don't think m’your mate, Cassie. I really, really wanna be with you forever, but you'll probably choose your mate if they ever come along. Also, I probably have a mate somewhere, and I feel like we shouldn't keep going because I'm falling for you, like really hard, and I really don't think I'd survive it if we ended things before they even really started.”

Your wrecked sobs made him sick with guilt. The realization that he was the cause of your tears hit hard. His hands found their way to your back, gently caressing it as he tried to provide comfort. Unable to bear it any longer, he blurted out the words before more sobs could escape,

“ I’m your mate. I felt the bond snap the first time we met, baby. I didn’t want to you to feel like you had to accept the bond or feel pressured to discover it. I wished for you to find out on your own, at your own pace. And I’m truly sorry for the pain i’ve caused you. If I had known this was something you really wanted, I would’ve told you straight away, sweet girl. I was wrong to assume and I’m deeply sorry. Please forgive me?”

Cassian’s words hung in the air, a revelation that shifted the atmosphere between you. Stunned, you looked up, eyes searching his for any sign of anger or irritation at your sudden breakdown or any deception. His gaze, however, held a sincerity that echoed in the depths of your shared connection, held a mix of pain, guilt and sadness paired with hope.

“You’re really mine? My mate?” the question was carried by your whispering voice. Cassian nodded and confirmed,

“Yes, i’m yours as you are mine.” The words triggered that golden bond, snapping the thread of life and love deep in your chest. Holding a hand to your chest, you looked at him breathing deeply.

“Mate. You’re my mate!” you shrieked and kissed all over his face, ending with a big kiss on his lips, making him laugh.

“Um, so can i now touch ‘em?” you questioned as you nodded your head in the direction of his massive wings. His back straightened and he explained,

“My wings have never been out during intimate encounters with females. It makes me feel vulnerable and I don’t like it. But for you… for you I’d pluck the stars from the night sky if you asked me. Go ahead, sweetheart but be careful they can be quite-”

He didn’t even finish his sentence when he felt your warm hands caressing the ridge of his leathery wings. Cassian twisted in his seat when you went over a certain spot. His whole body flashed with warmth, leaving a trail of goosepumps as his stomch flipped.

His face revealed delight, accompanied by low groans as your nails traced over the delicate wing. Intrigued, you inquired about the sensation. He leaned in, softly blowing air near your ear, eliciting goosebumps and a slight arch in your body.

He knew he’d come undone if you kept touching him so he picked you up, swept everything away from the table and put you on your back. Perhaps he should’ve been more quiet because when the waiter hurriedly came to check on the broken dishes, he received a savage snarl, so unlike the usually levelheaded male.

“ Get. Out.” Your mate gritted towards the poor fae. He’d make sure to leave another huge tip, but he didn’t have time to think of it now that the bond was so fresh and there was a male staring down his half naked mate. Cassian finally turned his attention to you when you grabbed his cock through his slacks.

“ c’mon mate, need you so bad, please.” you grabbed the back of his head, smashing his lips against yours as you whined and mumbled about needing his cock inside you. Any sort of foreplay was out of the question, you’d play later. You felt like you might literally die if you didn’t feel him closer to you right now.

You were consumed by an overwhelming desperation, feeling as if you'd burst out of your skin without his immediate presence. The ache for more of him intensified, a desperate longing for his touch to ravage you entirely. Tears welled in your eyes as you begged, desperate to be fucked right there, yearning to be claimed by your mate.

The desperation in your voice spurred cassian on as his hands skillfully removed his belt, pulling out his hard cock as he slid in and out, again and again and again. Rocking the table as he thrust into you hard, filling you up deliciously. Your mouths found each other in a deep kiss as you pulled his hair, earning a deep groan.

“You’re so fucking beautiful all spread out for me. My precious mate,” he mumbled against you.

“mmh, harder please- fucking me soo gooddd” You moaned. The pleasure was building up in your belly making you squirm against him “Please, daddy, let me cum.”

He halted all his movements, pulling you out of your bubble of pleasure. Why did he stop? You felt your high fizzle down as you felt tears in your eyes. “Cassie, why did you stop? I almost finished… s’not fair” you whined, crossing you arms as you looked away, feigning disbelief and anger.

You seriously hadn’t noticed what you called him? Were you fucked out already? Well, whatever. Cassian’s ego boosted immensely at the fact that you had mindlessly called him daddy.

“You’re so good for me, such a beautiful, beautiful girl. My mate makes me proud.”

His praise made you simultaneously melt against his body yet tighten around his cock as a new rush of slick gushed out of you. Bringing his one hand to your nipple while the other played with your clit, Cassian was determined to make you cum then take you home. It had to be your house because he really couldn’t promise he wouldn’t attack Rhys or Azriel if they laid their eyes on you, let alone saw your vulnerable, fucked out state.

The simultaneous pleasure made your head spin as you grabbed his arm to steady youself.

“feels..” you swallow the glob of saliva pooling on your tongue. “f-feels s’good, daddy. m’gonna cum…” His thrusts didn’t slow down as he was met by your relaxed expression - your eyes had crossed as your tongue lolled out a bit, making you drool. A few more pumps and he felt his knees wobble with intensity. You screams of pleasure were muffled by his hand as you came.

“gotta be quiet baby, lest someone catches us” groaning out the last part, Cassian pumps once, twice and finishes deep inside with as he slumps forward, head nuzzled against your neck, breathing in your intoxicating scent.

Driven by the fresh mating bond, he succumbed to a primal urge, covering your naked and relaxed form. Desperation fueled his actions, and protective instincts surged as he struggled with the dilemma of getting you home without causing harm, his every move tinged with the urgency of preserving your safety.

Wanting more, you pull him closer and wrap your legs around him. “daddy, i want more. please let’s go home because the table is kinda uncomfy n i wanna be on my bed instead.” Hands slither around you, pulling you up with as you clung to him. He drops a stack of money on the table to cover what he destroyed plus an appreciation for leaving him alone, gods know he would’ve shown no restraint if that waiter had been a little more bold.

“ s’okay cas i got this,” the whole restaurant fades into black before a cozy porch is replaced with the murmur of the restaurant. You’d winnowed home but not inside, leaving you right outside the door.

“ Sweetie, is your house warded or are you capable of winnowing inside too?” you shook your head and giggly responded,

“ mm, no, my house is protected from bad guys and only people i want can get inside. My friend fixed it for me, he’s super nice and you should totally meet him sometime.” The mention of another guy leaving your lips was enough for Cassian to make his eyes twitch but you looked so happy so he just nodded in agreement.

Opening the door, you welcomed Cassian into your cozy house. As he stepped in, his widened as his eyes roamed across the spacious hallway featuring a body-length mirror, perfect for a quick self-check before heading out, you told him. The hall led to a spacious living room with high ceilings exuding luxury, and the massive kitchen boasted pink appliances, a charming detail that seemed to define your style, he noticed.

His smile widened as he took in the cutesy and predominantly pink decor scattered throughout the house. It was a unique touch that resonated with your personality. As you guided him up the stairs, he marveled at the size of the home, realizing it was quite spacious for a single person.

Passing by several empty rooms, you finally opened the grand bedroom. The king-sized bed with frilly white sheets and an array of pink pillows dominated the space, surrounded by what seemed like an army of stuffed animals, a table adorned with the flowers he sent you this morning. Turning to the left he say your huge closet with clothes littered over the floor. You ran and closed the door behind you, leaning against it as you let out a nervous laugh, “ oh, that’s just my closet. it’s a bit messy so let’s just not look there.”

You bit your lips as your eyes squinted in the dim light. He looked so delicious and you wanted more. wanted your mate, closer. Despite being mere feet apart, an insatiable need for closeness overcame you. Closing the gap, you kissed him, reigniting the connection that began at the restaurant, determined to continue it throughout the night.

The night with your mate unfolded in a series of intimate moments, he put you in new positions and taught you pleasures you never imagined. His expertise left you in a constant state of bliss, with every moment dedicated to mutual satisfaction. You had slept for about an hour or two before going at it again when he stood up and stretched, the sight enough for you to tackle him and ride him right there on your fluffy carpet.

As dawn approached, you marveled at the fact that you had enough restraint to let him slip away and prepare breakfast. The lingering sensations and shared experiences had created a bond that extended beyond the physical, making the morning after feel like a continuation of the enchanting night. Now you laid in the protective arms of you lover, looking at him while biting your lips to keep from pouncing in him.

“If you keep staring at me like that, we won't leave the house ever,” you looked away from his gaze, blushing furiously.

“Maybe I don't wanna leave the house. I wanna be with you forever and ever, cassie” you whispered, nestling closer and kissing his cheek, a familiar gesture of affection.

He chuckled warmly, deeply and kissed you back before your broke the kiss.

“Cas, you mentioned your friends live here. Can I meet them? You spoke about them like you really, really love them,”you inquired, sensing a shift in the air as his grip tightened around you.

“Another time, sweetheart. Right now, I need you alone. I can't even think about leaving you,” he confessed, his tone carrying a protective intensity.

“Do you know much about the mating bond?” you explained that you knew it was two people fated together in a perfect match but that was all your parents allowed you to know. He nodded and explained,

“A newly mated couple can be very... let's say, unstable. There have been many cool and collected males and females who lost their minds when someone laid their eyes on their mate for too long. Sane people have abandoned all critical thinking wherever their mate is involved. Their first and only thought is their mate’s safety and happiness. People have died for provoking newly-mated. So, please, give me a little time because there's a very likely chance I might kill someone for looking at you a bit too much." This…frenzy will cool down after a while but it’s very intense when it’s so new.”

The gravity in his words conveyed the depth of his commitment and the primal instincts that fueled it.

You were fucked in the head for sure because the realization that Cassian would fiercely protect you, even kill someone for you, sent a thrilling shiver down your spine, an unconventional yet undeniably arousing form of desire.

Without a word, you shuffled down, ready to express your gratitude and desire in a way that words could never fully convey, letting your mouth and hands express your love and gratitude.

—

For almost three weeks, you reveled in the cocoon of intimacy, exploring every inch of each other's souls and bodies within the confines of your shared space. Cassian's presence became a comforting constant, and there wasn't a single room in the house that he hadn’t fucked you in. Repeatedly.

However, the inevitable reality of his responsibilities tugged at Cassian's conscience. His jaw tightened, and his eyes darkening slightly as he confessed,

“I hate to say this, baby, but I have to go back. My family is looking for me, and they're worried.”

A pout formed on your lips as the idea of him leaving weighed heavily on your heart.

“You really gotta go?” Your doe-eyes mirrored the sadness and pain of his departure, glossing over in tears at the thought of him not being by your side.

One look into your eyes and he knew there was no chance he could leave you.

“You know what, fuck that. There's no way I'm leaving you. So how would you feel about meeting my family?”

Cassian dropping the idea of meeting his family made you think. Would they like you? He always spoke highly of them, and it got you wondering if you'd measure up. You knew you weren't the brightest tool in the shed or however the saying went but you hoped they'd see something in you that's good enough for him. The old voices of your parents kept echoing in your head.

"You're only good if you keep your mouth shut."

"How did I end up with such a dumb daughter?"

"You’re prettier when you don't talk."

Cassian sensed your unease, and he gently took your hands, looking into your eyes with a reassuring smile.

“Hey, don't worry about a thing. My family will adore you as much as I do. You're more than enough, just the way you are.”

His words carried a sincerity that eased the knots in your stomach. You peppered kisses all over his face and mentally thanked him for the reassurance.

He laughed, kissing you and repeating those reassuring words until it was time to leave. Putting on a cute, blue summer dress, you skipped alongside him, blissfully unaware of the imposing aura he now exuded due to the fresh bond.

As the beautiful estate by the river came into view, you marveled at the picturesque landscape. Holding a homemade cake in one hand and Cassian's hand in the other, you both approached the door.

However, huge confusion struck as your eyes widened upon seeing who opened it.

🏷️ taglist: @justasillylittlegoofyguy

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the-black-manor · 10 months

Text

The Little Moments

Summary: You enjoy a good fucking in the tub with your master.

Warnings: Cervix fucking, unprotected sex, cnc.

Kinks: Vampire, oversized cock, excessive cum, cum inflation, breeding, shower/bath, master/pet, dom/sub.

Characters: You and your loving Master.

Words: 2,632

More writing on Patreon.

Soft classical music draws you subconsciously to your master's bedroom, where you pad silently on bare feet across the dark wood floor to the bathroom door. You don't bother knocking before you turn the brass knob and step inside. Within the dimly lit room sits your master in a large, black claw-foot tub, whose golden accents have worn and faded through the many years it's belonged to him. If you didn't know any better, you might think that your master was sleeping. His pale skin seemed almost to glow as the moonlight filtered in through the tall window opposite you to light upon his face. He looked like a statue, chiseled expertly from marble by the deft hands of a master sculptor.

You were suddenly very aware of your own presence in the room and how much of a blemish you seemed to be amidst this picturesque scene. For the briefest moment, you wanted to sneak out of the bathroom without your master knowing you were ever there. But you stayed. He already knew you were there. He always knew when you were there.

"Master?" you called quietly.

He didn't respond, only lifted his hand out of the water and held it out toward you. He liked to wear gloves, your master, and while no one else knew why, you did. His hands bore the sign of his age. They were a roadmap through the many centuries he had been alive. Deep lines crossed his wide palms like canyons, and his fingers were thick and long, tipped with crimson nails. You padded forward and rested your hand in his. His skin was gray, almost translucent here, thin, and pulled too tightly over pronounced tendons and bone, like a corpse. He is a corpse. You knew this, and yet, despite the lack of a heartbeat, the absence of breath in his lungs, and the cool of his skin, he always seemed so very alive to you. Warm, despite no blood to flow through his veins, with bright eyes and a smile that could bring gods to their knees. Alive, dead, undead, it didn't matter. These were just words to you; they held no weight. He was perfect.

His fingers curled around yours, firmly, but not tightly. Pink peonies floated on the surface of the water, and the faint aroma of vanilla, cinnamon, nutmeg, and other warm spices drifted into the air, carried by the steam. He liked to use oils in his baths to keep his skin from becoming leathery, and this one was one of your favorites. The water was so still, it looked like glass, and didn't obscure any of what your master had to offer. Long legs with strong thighs, a thin waist and stomach with just the barest definition of abs partially hidden by dark hair leading down to his crotch, where his cock rested, always semi-firm, between his legs. His chest was covered in the same dark hair as his belly, strong and toned, and he had muscular arms that he, unfortunately, liked to keep hidden beneath dress shirts made of expensive fabrics.

Your gaze wandered toward his, where he peeked at you through one half-open eye, a smirk on his delicate lips. Your face heat up in embarrassment, and you looked away. He only chuckled, a deep reverberation through the room akin to the first rumbles of thunder that precede a storm.

"Are you going to get in, or not?" he asked, and your heart skipped a beat. His voice was music.

He gave your hand a squeeze and you looked back at him. No matter how many times you had slept together, how many times he had touched you, how many times he had looked at you with those pale green eyes, it always felt like the first time, and you felt how David must have felt when he stood before Goliath. You were so small in comparison to this man, this creature, that stood taller than life.

All the same, you nodded, then lifted a foot over the edge of the tub. Your master took very hot baths, but a dip of your toe confirmed that it had cooled enough for you to enjoy the water comfortably.

"Can I sit on your cock?' you asked sheepishly, like a child asking for a second cookie.

"Of course," he smiled, and sharp teeth glinted in the moonlight.

He knew you would ask. You always do.

He scooted back to make room for you and helped you keep your balance as you stepped into the tub. You settled between his legs. The water reached well past your chest, and you could feel the weight of his manhood on your lower back. You knew he would need a moment to get himself ready, so you sat upright, making sure not to obstruct his access to himself. His fingers brushed against you, sending a chill up your spine, as he curled them around his cock. The stillness of the water was broken as he began to stroke himself, creating little waves, one of which carried a fluffy peony right to you. You cupped the flower gently in your hands, and lifted it to your nose, where you breathed deeply, picking its scent out from the rest. You closed your eyes, enjoying the heat of the water and the soft melody drifting through the air.

Your master groaned behind you, and his legs tensed around yours. It never took him long to get ready. You imagined it wouldn't take you long either, if you were always ready to breed someone like he was. Sometimes you wished you had the ability to have sex for hours on end and still be aroused when the session was over. Other times, you saw the look on his face, and knew that he was only barely winning the fight with his instincts. You saw how he would shift throughout the day to try and get comfortable, how he would squeeze his legs together to try and give his greedy cock some friction. In those times, you pitied him. You wished you could give him more of what he needed. You'd told him that you would never say no to him, that he could do whatever he wanted to you, but still he held back. If he didn't, he would break you, and so he was never truly satisfied.

You felt his cock throb against your back, and your own legs clenched in response.

"You can sit in my lap now," he said.

You set the flower back in the water, then used both sides of the tub to lift yourself up just enough for him to position himself beneath you. His hands found your hips and he pulled you backward. Your arms shook as you held your position, waiting for him to line up. His cockhead found its way between your folds and prodded at your entrance. He wiggled, only ever so slightly, but his knee collided with your leg, and you lost your grip on the tub.

You collapsed onto him with your full weight, and his cock slid inside without warning. You cried out and tried to stand, but his arms snaked around your torso like prison bars. He laid back and pulled you with him, holding you firmly against his chest. Your eyes watered and you clenched around him in pain. He rested his chin on your shoulder, and gently rubbed your stomach.

"Hush, love, hush. Stay still. The pain will pass."

You relaxed as best you could and let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding. Almost instantly, the pain began to subside. Your master insisted over and over that whatever magic or powers he had weren't for healing, but you knew that his touch could relieve pain at the very least. You had experienced it more than once.

You whined and turned your head to nuzzle into the crook of his neck. His soft beard, neatly trimmed and shaped, brushed against your forehead.

"There, that's it," he purred.

One of his hands traveled up your body to play with your nipples, pinching and rolling them around between his fingers, while his other hand found its way between your legs and gave your clit the same attention. Just when you began to think that you were getting used to the size of him, you were reminded just how big he really was. His cock alone made you feel full. He stretched you well, and even while his cockhead was pressed hard against your cervix, he wasn't completely inside of you. You could feel the thick vein beneath his girth massaging your g-spot as he adjusted to get comfortable.

You hummed and closed your eyes, allowing yourself to sink into him, to give yourself to him fully. You were limp in his arms, a toy to be played with, nothing more, and he took full advantage of that. His nails were more akin to claws, but he kept them filed down for you, and you were silently grateful for it as he worked your clit. He moved his fingers just right, and the pleasure that traveled up your spine was like lightning, causing your back to arch involuntarily..

You whined as he pulled you back down with a strong arm and a chuckle.

"Already so sensitive to my touch, and I've only just begun."

You knew he was grinning without needing to see it. He liked to tease you, and he was very good at it, and you had come to know exactly how he responded to certain things. In this case, a grin was predictable. You only wished you could see it, see those fangs that he cared so diligently for.

You buried your face further into the crook of his neck, breathing him in as he rubbed your stomach, massaged your clit, and began moving gently in and out of you. Pain came first, as it always did, but quickly gave way to pleasure as his cockhead kissed your cervix with each thrust, and the girth of his cock filled you deliciously. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head and nuzzled against you with a content hum. When you finally managed to contain your squirming to the occasional buck of hips and tensing of abs, he released his hold around you and brought his hand up to card his fingers through your hair. He took a fistful and pulled gently, and you moaned in reply.

He found a comfortable pace for you and settled into it, moving quickly, but gently, providing just the right amount of friction inside of you. Paired with the slow, almost lazy attention to your clit, it took no time at all for the embers of arousal to ignite in your core, burning low, but hot.

You closed your eyes and released a small whine, to which he responded with a groan of pleasure.

“You always feel so good… You hold me just right, pet.”

“Master…” you breathed as your walls clenched around him tightly. “I’m close… Please fill me. Please, Master.”

He pressed his lips to your temple and you felt him smirk as he placed a gentle kiss there. Wordlessly, he picked up the pace, and water splashed over the edge of the tub. Strong waves carried the peonies over as well, until it was just you and your master in the tub, with him thrusting into you hard. Your breathing picked up as the coil in your stomach tightened and tightened ready to spring. Your master groaned again, and his cock was hot inside of you. With each growl he let past his teeth, your climax came closer and closer, with each moan and whine, the spring tightened, until he was panting in your ear as he fucked you and you were milking his cock with your walls.

“Oh god… Master… I’m gonna cum. Please can I cum?”

“Fuck, yes…” he breathed. “Cum for me sweetheart. Milk me.”

His breath was hot on the shell of your ear, and you cried out as your climax tore through your body. You tried to arch your back, but his arms were wound tightly around you, holding you fast.

“Fuck… fuck,” you swore as you felt him still, pushing hard against your cervix.

Pleasure clouded your vision as he thrust farther inside, forcing his cockhead to open your cervix and push into your womb. The edges of your vision darkened as his cock throbbed, unloading thick ribbons of hot cum directly into your thirsty uterus. He growled loudly as his climax overtook him, and he held you so tightly you almost couldn’t breathe. Still you came, waves of pleasure washing over you in time with the throbbing of his thick cock.

You could feel it moving inside of you, pulsing, and the warmth of his cum seemed almost hotter than the water around you. You squeezed your eyes shut to stop the room from spinning and rested a hand over your stomach. It began to grow beneath your palm as your womb filled with his seed, stretching to accommodate as he filled you with more and more, until you were bulging and braindead. All you could think was “Yes, Daddy, yes!” as your stomach swelled like a balloon, spurring your orgasm on.

After what seemed like ages, your master let out a whine and sucked in a deep breath. He relaxed back and you fell, limp, on top of him. Your hand slid from your stomach, which was so large, the top of it sat well above water-level. One of his strong hands replaced your own, and he rubbed soft, comforting circles over your swollen belly, soothing the taut skin there and bringing you down from your orgasm.

You couldn’t move, and as you gasped for air, you became very aware of his cock still nestled firmly inside of your cervix.

“M-master…” you whined.

“Hush, darling.”

A moan escaped your lips when he shifted to get more comfortable, and he chuckled.

“I know, darling. Doesn’t it feel nice?”

You nodded. “Mmm… feels nice…”

“Good, we’re going to stay here for a while, okay?”

You nodded again and he kissed your temple once more.

“My good pet. My sweet little cum-hungry toy,” he purred. “You and I are firmly knotted together, aren’t we?” he mused. “Well, that’s no trouble to me. It looks like we’re just going to have to stay here until I soften enough to pull out of you.”

You whined.

“B-but..”

“But I’m never soft?” he smirked. “Yes, I suppose that could be a problem… for you.”

He settled in, holding you and stroking your big belly with a smile on his red lips as you clenched around him. Each movement he made was a mix of agony and ecstasy, and you couldn’t stop your walls from reacting in kind. It wasn’t long until he was hard again, filling you full with his cock, stretching you wonderfully. He was inside of you fully, every last inch of him, and he used this rare opportunity to his advantage, rutting into you gently.

While your eyes drooped and sleep tugged at the back of your mind, he used your body to pleasure himself. You didn’t complain. He felt amazing, and the spring in your core was tightening again. You would do anything for your master, including remaining thoroughly stuck on him so that he could use and fill you as he pleased. You sighed and relaxed back. There was no fight in you, not that you wanted to fight it anyway. You smiled as he moved inside of you. It was your purpose in life to please him. You were, after all, his good pet.

His sweet little cum-hungry toy.

#my writing #vampire kink #oversized cock #excessive seed kink #impreg kink #consensual noncon #terato #monster kink #monsterfucker #knotting kink #dom/sub #master/pet #wealth kink

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regretfulcorrine · 3 months

Text

hello hello everyone im still here!!! thnk you @orange-peony for tagging me again and being a doll ;v; im currently maybe trying to color this comic where Draco is Teddy's early magic teacher and Harry thinks he's hot u know the shtick

as always i tag anyone looking for a sign to post something!

#drarry #draco malfoy #harry potter #teddy lupin #drarry fanart #draco x harry #harry x draco #fanart #my art

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blackhairedjjun · 4 months

Text

white peonies

pairing: choi yeonjun x gender neutral reader [reader is called "beautiful" once] | genre / tropes: royalty au, fluff, comfort, yeonjun and reader are engaged | word count: 1.25k | warnings: pet names (darling, love), mentions of classism

summary: the night before your wedding, you - a humble gardener who has won the heart of the crown prince - feel some doubts. fortunately, your husband-to-be is there for you.

author's notes: this is a spin-off to my previous multichapter fic, flowers of every color (specifically it is an epilogue to the good ending). but this can also be read on its own as a standalone oneshot!

(support by reblogging banner by @cafekitsune)

on the night before your wedding, the greenhouse is quiet. there’s no one else here but you, and you’re grateful for the solitude; the gardening staff hired to replace you have all gone to bed, and you can revel in your old life one more time. your fingers brush the petals of the newly bloomed white peonies on the greenhouse table and you smile. they’ve grown beautifully, their snow-white petals bursting out like fireworks, and they’ve been cut and arranged in vases and bouquets just in time to be put into position tomorrow. regret stings at you that you barely tended to them personally.

you’ve been told time and time again that you don’t need to do gardening work anymore now that you’re about to become the prince’s spouse and consort 一 and you’ve been too busy with new duties to do so anyway. still, you miss that old life, and the small garden plot assigned for “royal leisure” isn’t enough.

without even realizing it, you start checking each flower for signs of infestation or infection. you inspect the leaves, the petals, and the cut ends of the stems, searching for holes left by bug bites or parts that have gone mushy and brown. you examine the water inside their vases, making sure they’re clear and free of any debris. and when each cut flower is satisfactorily healthy to you, you move on to the next one; you walk slowly down the long table, examining vase after vase, caring for them as if they were your own. (they’re the flowers for your wedding; in a sense, they are your own.)

the task keeps you busy enough that the tumultous energy swirling in your stomach slows down just a bit. the solitude comforts you; it’s just you and the flowers, away from the prying eyes of the castle, of the royal council, of all the guests who will come flooding in tomorrow...

your inspection is interrupted by a creak in the door. as it opens, you jump back and start a response 一 i just want to look at them before i go, that’s all 一 until the dim greenhouse light illuminates the face of your groom.

your shoulders droop and relief washes over you.

“i thought i’d find you here.” yeonjun makes his way to you and wraps his arms around your waist from behind. he pulls you close and you relax in his hold, though your tumultous feelings haven’t been shaken off completely. he too can feel the hurried rhythm of your pulse.

“why is my darling still awake?” he whines, kissing the crown of your head. “you need to be well-rested for tomorrow...”

“i know, love.” you sigh and turn to face him. “i just needed to get my nerves out.”

“you always come here when you’re nervous. tell me, darling... you can tell me what’s on your mind.”

“i’ve already told you a hundred times, you don’t want to hear it.”

“but i do.” he pushes aside a stray lock of hair from your face and cups your cheek. even now the gesture makes your heart flutter. “i don’t care if you’ve told me a hundred times. if you’re worried, i want you to tell me.”

you’re quiet for a few moments. you turn away from yeonjun and glance at the peonies; even after admitting it to him so many times before, it never feels any less shameful.

“it’s tomorrow... all the dukes and counts and visiting royal families from other kingdoms... they’ll see me, and they...”

you trail off. yeonjun pulls you into a tight embrace, one hand coming up to run through your hair. he knows about this worry all too well after you’ve told him countless times throughout your engagement. he’s heard the gossip making its way through his circles of royalty and nobility. he’s even held several returned invitations from guests who have declined to come or even send a gift.

he’s a prince marrying a commoner 一 his family’s own gardener 一 and breaking tradition. many noble and royal families took the engagement as a personal slight that their own eligible offspring had been overlooked in favor of a common worker. others heard that the prince had turned down a powerful queen’s daughter for a love match and took the queen’s side, hoping to prove their allegiance. still others simply thought that he was being undignified.

but those whispers of disdain have little meaning for yeonjun. he holds you for as long you let him, slotting your face into the crook of his neck until your nerves have settled down.

“i know what you’re going to say,” you whisper into his neck. “you don’t care about any of that, they don’t see me the way you do...”

he chuckles and you can feel his breaths tickling your ear. “then you know that i mean all of it, right?”

“i know. but i still worry, i shouldn’t worry一”

“shhh.” he leaves another kiss on the crown of your head. “if you can’t stop worrying about these things, then at least let me carry the burden with you.”

“you don’t have to...”

“i want to.”

you nod and close your eyes, burying yourself in him; his hold on your waist grows firmer. you are reminded of how lucky you are to know yeonjun, to be in love with him, to be spending the rest of your life with him. the princely crown is a weight he carries with dignity, and the kingly crown he will wear one day is even heavier, yet he is more than willing to carry your own burdens alongside his. he proves it to you right here: instead of going to bed early like he should, he holds you close right before his own wedding — your own wedding — because you matter to him more than any duty.

what he knows is that he can carry his burdens only because you are by his side.

for a few moments you let him hold you, feeling your own heartbeat steady as it syncs with his. the tumult swirling within you doesn’t go away completely, but it does slow down enough that your mind feels clear again.

you give him a quick kiss on his neck right before you pull away. “thank you, jjunie.”

he smiles you see his ears turn red. even after all this time, you still have that effect on him.

yeonjun glances over at the white peonies lined up on the table, waiting to be positioned in the early hours of the morning. he purses his lips and tuts. “the ones you grow are prettier.”

“don’t say that! the new gardeners did a perfectly fine job. i looked at them and they’re all healthy.” your cheeks betray you anyway as they grow warm at his compliment.

“healthy, sure. but prettier? your flowers are almost as beautiful as you.”

now your face is a mess of red. “stop that! you’re making me一 i一”

“you know it’s true, darling.”

you shake your head but slip your hands into his. he gives you a teasing smile, but the redness in his ears hasn’t gone away.

“then will you convince the council to let me do more gardening once we’re married? or at least give me a real garden instead of that tiny plot?”

“oh, i’m already talking them into it.” he steps closer and brushes his nose against yours. “and if they don’t let you have it, then i’ll dig up one myself.”

notes: hehe happy holidays everyone!! i wanna give a special thank you to @doumachi - mey's prince yeonjun thoughts and letting me scream in their inbox inspired me to revisit this old world again and write this. i love prince jjunie so 🥺

bringing back the original taglist: @seosalad @lilplilplilp @yeonboy @pyuae @hyuneyeon @strawbrinkofdeath @yushiu @mazeinthemoon @banggyu0308 @shytubatu @kyaneosprincess @agustdiv1ne @whippedforbeomgyu @justineasian @skywithf1 @wrongbathroom @choizzn @bangchansbae @huskyhunny @catsyoon @flowerbe0m

#txt x reader #yeonjun x reader #txt x you #yeonjun x you #choi yeonjun x reader #kpop x reader #txt imagines #kpop imagines #yeonjun imagines #txt angst #txt fluff #yeonjun fluff #tomorrow x together imagines #txt fic #txt fanfic #bhj originals

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lixxpix · 3 months

Text

happiness looks good on you- lee felix

summary: you love felix, but he doesn't love you back.

warnings: sad ending, angst!

author's notes: hi everyone<3 this is my first fic, kinda wrote this at like 3am on a whim instead of sleeping but like😭 idk why i made this so sad (is this a sign im depressed or something) but hope u enjoy!! please to comment ur user if u want to be tagged in this or my future posts<3

"happiness looks good on you."

raging storms and unshed tears.

"happiness looks good on you."

heartbreak and rainy days.

"hurry up lix, we're going to be late," you complained, brow furrowed as you stuck your bottom lip out in a pout.

"if you really want to go to school that early just walk there yourself." felix taunted, knowing you were scared to walk alone. he was your long-term best friend, inseparable since kindergarten 'til today.

the two of you argued and bickered on the way to school, throwing insults at each other. by the time the both of you had gotten to school, you were both given a scolding and told to sit down. you glared at him as you were being scolded while he just snickered.

the audacity of this man, honestly .

by the time class had finished, you had cooled down, just like felix knew you would. otherwise, he could just stick out his bottom lip while you huffed and pretended to be mad.

"y/n!" he gasped, clutching at your arm, "areum just looked at me!"

he squealed, like a little kid at the toy shop, over his long time crush.

if only you looked at me in that way.

because i do.

"nah, she probably was just looking at someone else." you lied through your teeth, feeling your heart sink.

"hey, stop being mean!! she clearly looked at me," he pouted.

you sighed.

i've loved you for years and you've never noticed.

"well just confess to her already then."

it was painful watching your own crush and best friend fall for someone else, someone that wasn't you.

you wished, rather selfishly, that areum would reject him. then you could be the shoulder he would cry on. not her. but honestly, you couldn't bring yourself to hate her. what was to hate? she was pretty, got good marks, and was friendly and easygoing. not to say you yourself weren't pretty, but you just weren't as pretty and hardworking as her.

and you weren't the one he wanted.

maybe the pain would end if they just ended up together and you were out of the picture. it was obvious she liked him too.

"you really think i should? but what if i get rejected..."

you're so blind but i still love you.

"yes, how many times do i have to say this, she likes you. it's obvious." you rolled your eyes.

"should i just confess tomorrow? better late than never..." he trailed off, worrying at his bottom lip with his teeth.

gods you look so cute when you do that.

"yeah. get her some flowers and write her a note."

why were you breaking your own heart? you didn't know why. maybe you just wanted to end your own heartbreak.

"good luck with that, anyways i need to go to s house for a project." you actually didn't, but you would do anything to just escape from this.

"why~~are you really just going to leave me alone to plan my big confession by myself," he whined.

"sorry lix, but you'll figure it out." ruffling his hair, you walked out the classroom.

you did, in fact, go home. then sat on your bed and cried until you couldn't physically squeeze any more tears out of you. so this was what heartbreak felt like. you had known him since the both of you were ten. you had have multiple crushes here and there, but they were just passing, fleeting moments, nothing of importance. until him.

you didn't know when you had first started to like him. maybe it was that time in the library where he was helping the librarian stack books. maybe it was that time in the rain where he danced in it for hours.

maybe it was one summer day where your world just exploded in colours.

and now it felt like it was fading back to grey.

the next day, felix came bouncing up to you.

"i got her peonies, do you think she'll like it? i told her to meet me in the garden."

"yeah, she'll definitely like it. i would've too... " you muttered the last part all to yourself, turning away and blinking rapidly as tears threatened to prick your eyes. you offered him a smile of encouragement.

"good luck."

when lunch came, you watched as the nervous australian carried the peonies and went to the garden.

then you watched as they walked in ten minutes later, smiling bashfully and holding hands like schoolchildren in love.

because they were.

you went home, not even bothering to call in sick. you just grabbed your bag and went home. you would deal with the consequences later.

your heart hurt.

you were numb.

you were hollow.

you were crying.

you hated everything.

the next few days were spent at home. you called in sick. felix texted you countless times but you ignored him.

lixie<3

y/nie?

where r u?

she accepted!!!

im so happy>.<

read at 2:03 a.m.

yeah, right. good for you. but what about me?

lixie<3

...hello?

y/n?

can u please respond...

im worried...

what happened???

why didn't you come to school today??

read at 3:46 p.m.

you turned off your phone then turned over and cried again. you hated this. why did you have to fall for him in the first place?

finally, after four days of missed calls, texts, and school, you had to go back. its not like you had a choice anyways. you missed your parents. they lived overseas though, so you lived alone. but you really couldn't continue living like this for the rest of your life, even if you wanted to.

"y/nie!!!" felix exclaimed, running up to you. "why didn't you respond to my texts? are you okay? it's unlike you..."

"im sorry lix, i was just under the weather. im ok." you offered him a tight lipped smile. "congrats by the way." you closed your locker door and rushed off before he could ask you anything more.

"huh? thats unlike her... why is she acting so weird lately?"

and so you avoided him, as much as you could. you kept your conversations short and brief, not talking to him as much as possible, and even switching seats to sit far away from him. you watched his hurt face the day he walked in and saw you sitting somewhere else, but then cheering up as areum sat next to him. you watched as he laughed and held hands, ate tteokbokki and ramen with her in the cafeteria. that should've been me.

but honestly, it did nothing to fill the felix-sized hole in your heart.

you drifted apart. he barely texted you now, barely said hi to you, barely even saw you in the hallways anymore.

then exams were finished, and graduation started to roll around.

you watched as they attended prom and twirled around on the dance floor giggling.

you watched as they broke up on the doorstep of his dorms, watching as felix's face fell when she dumped him for another guy.

you didn't have the heart to tell him i told you so.

so you busied yourself in your exams, earning a scholarship to your dream university. felix tried reaching out to you several times to rekindle your old friendship, but you would always politely decline, preferring to be detached instead of going through more heartbreak.

you still loved him, but the once burning passion had now been reduced to a soft flicker every now and then, sparking ever so slightly whenever you saw him in the corridors. your own felix-shaped hole in your heart hadn't decreased over the years, but your heart became bigger, expanding so that other people could fit in it. the hole would always be there, but at least there was space for healing.

you turned around in the backseat of your friends' car to see the campus you had once called home fading away into the distance and felix along with it.

goodbye, the wind whispered.

"happiness looks good on you, lix. i hope you make the best of it."

#lee felix x reader #felix x reader #skz x reader #skz #stray kids #gn reader #angst #sad ending #lee felix #high school au #heartbreak #lost love #heartache #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #stray kids x gender neutral reader #stray kids x you

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seravphs · 5 months

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ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — WOLFWOOD x FEM READER

You thought you'd be the one taking care of the stray you picked up off the streets, not the other way around.

wc — 3.6k

tags — fluff, dog boy/werewolf/shapeshifter au I guess, whatever you want to call it, “you become responsible forever for what you have tamed” but it goes both ways, animal abuse mention (non graphic and not from reader), shoujo manga vibes, title from runaway by Aurora

There’s a mangy old stray on your block. You’ve seen the kids chase him off with sticks too many times not to want to do something about it, no matter how your mother used to scold you for your bleeding heart.

“It’ll get you hurt someday,” echoes now in your ears as the cashier rings up your dog food, both wet and dry. You’re not sure which he’d - it seems like a he - would prefer.

$12.97 is your total. Not a bad price to pay for a life.

Only a gentle kind of revolt, more teasing than genuinely angry, remains in your mind as the first drops of rain land on your face. It was a light mist, barely enough to dampen the sweet smelling air. The wet haze pulled blurry rainbows across the clear summer sky, enough to put a hop in your step as you hurried back to your apartment.

There are no children today, and the neighborhood is quiet. A half dug hole by the adjacent apartment’s peonies tells you that your target is either nearby or at least recently in town. You unpack your bag, setting out a trap in the form of a can of wet food.

Something skulks in the periphery of your vision. Trying not to startle him, you peek at the shadow out of the corner of your eye. You didn’t know dogs grew to be this big.

When you really look at him, your stray seems more wolf than dog. He’d be nearly as large as as a human if he stood up on his back paws. Hiding beneath the trees where he thinks you can’t see him, he’s tense and untrusting.

It’s strange for you to think of yourself as capable of making anyone nervous, much less someone as big as he is. You take a step back.

He edges forward, then flees into the shadows again. He’s hesitant. His paws skitter across the grass, beating a fast and unsteady tempo that reveals how nervous he is. It’s obvious that he won’t come out to eat as long as you’re here. That’s fine.

Trust can be earned.

From your apartment’s windows, you watch him gulp down the food. He’s so clearly famished that he doesn’t even pause to breathe between bites, leaving you almost afraid that he’ll choke. When he’s finished, he lies down by his bowl, his eyes glittering.

He’s not asleep - he’s too wary a creature for that, but it’s relieving to see him relaxed and sated. He dozes like that for a minute or two before he lifts himself back up on weary paws to trot back into the woods.

You’ve tried to make it a routine to feed him after work, stopping by the pet store to pick up different flavors you think he’d like to try. Neon stickers pop out at you from various tags on the shelves, promising to boost muscle growth or improve bone strength.

In the end, you get them all. When all you do is work, you don’t worry about blowing your money on things like this. You have nothing else to spend it on - might as well spoil him. It’s nice to be able to take care of someone else.

It might be all in your head, but you think he’s starting to warm up to you. He still waits until you’re gone to eat, but it’s easier to keep tabs on him now. You don’t think it’s an accident.

Sneaking a glance out of the corner of your eye, you can spot the telltale signs that he was waiting. Sometimes you even find him waiting for your car to pull in.

Today, you find him at the end of your driveway, his tail thumping against the pavement. He’s in a good mood, it seems. When you park, he even gives a short howl.

He still retreats when you climb out of the driver’s side, only inching forward when you rustle your plastic bag of groceries at him. You crack the lid and set it down slightly in front of you to wait it out.

You’ve been trying to get him used to your presence so you can take him to the vet. It’s a slow process - some days he’s more amenable to your presence than others.

It takes a minute or two for him to consider if it’s worth it, if you’ll hurt him. Eventually, he slinks forward, his body low to the ground.

You smile at him encouragingly as you wait, crouched down to be on the same level as him. He’s a big dog, probably almost the same height as you sitting down. He pauses in front of the food and sniffs cautiously. Then, he passes it.

Your heart drops. Maybe he didn’t like it. Had you picked wrong? He’s eaten everything you gave him before - you didn’t think he was picky.

He comes right up to you, his hot breath gusting over your hand. Suddenly you realize that this is a predator. He might be feral or have rabies. After everything, you realize you don’t really know him.

Animals aren’t like humans. You’ve assigned a wild beast your own moral complications and assumptions. Perhaps it’s hungry enough to want to eat you.

He’s close enough that you can feel the warm weight of his body against your shins. Something fuzzy bumps into your hand insistently until you lift it. You realize that he’s asking to be pet and with trembling fingers, you do.

Your fingers stroke over his head and ears, growing surer with the way he’s pushing back against you. It tickles just a little, enough to make you giggle until he shoves his snout right into your palm. His nose is cold and wet.

“Go on,” you encourage, trying to nudge him towards the bowl. No matter how nice his fur feels, there’s something heartbreaking about watching him choose love over food.

“You need to eat,” you scold. He sneezes in a way that makes him shake all over. If he wasn’t a dog, you’d think he was smiling at you. He only takes a mouthful when you reach out to resume petting him. He seems to like it when you scratch right behind his ears.

You almost feel like you’ve formed a bond until he stops right at the boundary of your home and refuses to walk any further. You had thought you were getting along so well, too.

“Come on,” you coax. “Here, boy. There’s nothing to be scared of.”

He skitters back anyways, circling your property with a low, mournful howl before he trots back towards the perimeter.

Progress is progress, you try to remind yourself, however disappointed you are.

Sometimes, it feels like you’re not making any at all. There are days where you can’t even watch him eat, not knowing if he’s alright until the next time you find an empty bowl. Your fears are only alleviated by the moments where he lets you pet him or waits for you, a reminder that you are earning his trust.

It may be a slow process, but he is becoming more comfortable with you, little by little.

Now it worries you when you can’t find him sitting in his usual spot, wary but excited. He doesn’t come even when you peel back the lid of the can noisily, the metal crumpling easily in your hand. You can’t help your anxieties from multiplying, though logically you know that he’s probably just off doing whatever dogs do in their free time.

You’re already halfway up the walkway to your house when you turn back. You can’t go inside without knowing he’s safe. A quick lap around the neighborhood reveals nothing. You’re checking behind bushes and cars when you hear the first faint whimper.

Frantically, you push the leaves aside until you find him huddling in the center of a rose bush. He’s curled up on himself, as small as he could possibly be. His tail is tucked under his nose.

Your hands are pricked with thousands of little needles as you keep digging for him. You can’t imagine how much worse it would be for him. This could only have been his last resort. Something worse had chased him here.

He wags his tail when he sees you, barely able to lift his head. Seeing him struggle, you can’t help yourself. You push the branches aside to help him drag himself out, his body battered. Those kids again.

“Come on, baby,” you coo, stroking his matted fur as you pick him up in your arms. He’s not as heavy as he should be, starved as he is. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll take care of you.”

It was settled before you could decide it for yourself. He’s your responsibility now. There was never a choice in it.

Dr. Rem’s assistant comes out to fetch you less than five minutes into the check up. “I think you should stay,” he says, his tone just cool enough to sound a touch annoyed.

Your overgrown puppy won’t submit to her ministrations unless you’re in the room with him, stroking his ears and promising that everything will be alright. He must’ve been a pet at some point, to know what needles are and have such a reaction to them. To know that despite the initial pinch, it’s okay as long as you’re being pet.

When it’s finally over, both of you are exhausted, but Dr. Rem is as professional as ever as she walks you through the care routine for his treatments. “Honestly,” she says, shaking her head. “I don’t understand how some people can be so cruel.”

You don’t either, but it doesn’t matter. He’s yours now, and you’ll never let anything touch him again.

“Does he have a name?” Dr. Rem’s incredibly blonde assistant asks as he’s filling out your release forms.

“I’ve just been calling him dog,” you admit bashfully.

He doesn’t need to speak. His expression says it all. Unbelievable.

You take a look at the creature you’ve decided to bring home. He does look more like a wolf than a dog. You’ve always thought so. “Wolfwood?”

“What a weird - ahem, interesting - name for a dog,” Nai, from his name tag, says.

By your feet, Wolfwood wags his tail in agreement.

“Wolfie?”

His tail wags harder. He pauses. It wags again. He turns around and nips at it, like he’s trying to hide the fact that he might like the nickname.

When you try to carry him from the car into your home, he clambers stiffly to his feet like an old man. You have to hide your laugh behind a couch. For some reason, he seems more human than animal. You’ve caught him noticing things no normal dog would, and you’re sure his pride would be injured.

The sound his nails clicking across the floor is strangely comforting, like ASMR. You’ve heard that dogs are naturally helpful to lower cortisol and reduce stress, but you’ve never thought you’d experience those effects. You lean down to stroke a hand over his furry coat, carefully avoiding the spots where he’s still hurt.

When it’s bedtime, you’ve resolved to give him the comfort of your bed and take the couch, but he’s not having any of that. His jaw snaps around the hem of your shirt, teeth digging into the fabric to prevent you from leaving. Immediately, you stop moving, afraid to hurt him worse.

“Calm down,” you say gently. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He barks in discontent. He really does seem human, as if he understood you.

Out of options, you resign yourself to curling up on the bed next to him, hoping you won’t accidentally roll over him in your sleep. Maybe you should invest in one of those bed dividers they use for small children. It’s the last thought in your head before you drift off.

A deep, reverberating sound wakes you up. You roll over with the pillow shoved on top of your head to try to get some peace, but it continues. Fed up, you finally rise out of your comfortable sheets, ready to give whichever neighbor that’s decided sunrise was a great time to mow their lawn a piece of your mind.

Instead, you’re greeted with a strange man in your bed. Your scream is cut short by his hand clapping over your mouth as soon as you start.

“Oops.” He says. “My bad.”

Your eyes grow wider in terror.

“Hey, hey,” he says soothingly, like that’s going to help when there’s a random man in your bed. “None of that. I’m a friend.”

You scream louder. In a spark of inspiration, you try to bite him. He winces. That’s when you start noticing the ears and the tail. The faint resemblances to someone else you know. The bandages wrapped around his torso.

“That’s right,” he says, noticing you look. “Recognize me now? Would this help?”

The tail flicks back and forth in a familiar motion. Someone else used to do that to show his happiness.

“Wolfie?”

“That’s a stupid name,” he laughs.

“I think I’m going to pass out.”

“Don’t do that,” he says, but it’s too late. You’re going back to bed.

You’re not sure why you’re not more surprised that the stray you picked up is actually a human, but after your initial reaction, you find yourself remarkably open to the idea. Part of you feels privately that you’ve always expected Wolfie to be special. He seemed so smart.

You’re in too deep to kick him out now, human or not, but that also might be an excuse. Having him around is nice, you have to admit. Whether he’s a human or a dog, having someone to come home to has changed your life.

You hadn’t realized how lonely you were until you came home to Wolfwood preparing dinner, the apron you bought for him wrapped around his waist. It reads ‘kiss the chef’ in bright pink letters.

Although you’re the one who took him in, you feel like you’re the one being taken care of.

It’s not just you. Even your coworkers have commented on the way you rush home now instead of staying up until the very last minute. You can’t keep up with your bad habits anymore. There’s someone waiting for you now.

When you open the door, the delicious fragrance of something savory drifts to your nose, spiced and warm. “I’m home,” you call.

There’s no need. He’s already waiting at the door. It’s a comical sight. He tries to make it casual, leaning against the wall with an oh-so-nonchalant air, but he’s there every single time you walk through the entrance without fail.

It’s too easy to get used to his presence.

Having someone to come home to makes you quicker to turn down overtime requests and more hesitant to take on additional duties. You thought this would hurt your work report, and you were willing to take the hit. Some things are worth it.

Instead, your productivity spikes. Even your manager notices, doling out rare and surprised praise on one of your last projects. The change in you is palpable.

“Did you get a boyfriend?” Meryl asks. “You seem happier lately.”

Everyone notices the way you seem brighter, more easygoing. You’ve started bringing homemade lunch boxes instead of eating out. Your good mood has translated into a better work product than any amount of indifferent hours you put in before.

It’s still a surprise when you receive your promotion at the end of the quarter. Something you’ve been working towards for months drops right in your lap. Lately, it feels like everything has been falling into place.

Good things arrive on the heels of even better things, all because you’ve felt more personally fulfilled than you have in years. You though taking Wolfwood in would slow you down, but it’s done the opposite.

You have more time now that you have someone looking after you. It also motivates you to have someone of your own to care for.

When you present the news to him, you can’t stop yourself from crying out of happiness, though it’s embarrassing. Wolfwood licks at the small tears rolling down your cheeks.

“What are you doing?” You laugh, trying to push his face away with no real effort behind it.

“Kisses,” he replies. “For doing a good job.”

Not like that, you try to remind yourself. He doesn’t mean it like that.

“Why is your heart beating faster?”

Stupid dog senses.

There are other ways in which his dog nature comes in handy. He’s more sensitive to nature than you are. You’ve come to rely on him instead of the forecast as he sends you off every morning, his nose scenting the ozone and petrichor in the air.

“Don’t forget to take an umbrella!”

“I’m already running late, bye!”

You should’ve listened. Now you’re forced to trudge through the damp muck, soaked to the bone. Your sneeze is so strong it rattles through your bones, making you feel achey and weak as you sniffle through the last leg of your journey. By the time you finally reach the front door, you feel as pathetic as you must look, like a half drowned rat.

Wolfwood is waiting for you again, but you barely register it. You nearly stumble over a cabinet leg as you try to make your way to the couch through the dizziness, collapsing on it. Wolfwood pads over to you, making a low grumbling noise of concern.

“Shh,” you murmur as you feel his cold nose shove into your palm. “Not right now, Wolfie. I’m tired.”

He puts his head across your thigh and whines discontentedly. Your breathing is coming a little hard. Still, you try to reassure him. “I’m okay. Just had a long day.”

There’s human hands against your forehead now, nice and cool. You turn your head so you can nuzzle into it, the gentle pressure relieving your headache just a little.

Someone’s holding you now, arms around your back and sides. “Come on, sweetheart, you gotta sit up. Eat something.”

Almost like a dog yourself, you whine and pout, turning your face away. The idea of food is turning your stomach right now. Everything seems too rich for your weak stomach.

“This is why I told you to take that umbrella this morning.” Wolfwood’s voice is stern, but his hands are kind as he props you up.

“One sip, alright? For me.”

Weakly, you part your lips so he can slide the spoon between your teeth. It’s a mild broth, barely any flavor to it, but it’s the only thing you can bear at the moment. The hot soup feels incredible, warming you from the inside out.

“There we go,” he says. “Good job, sweetheart.”

With his help, you finish the whole bowl. He wraps the blanket tighter around you before he takes the dirty dishes. Even when he leaves your side, you can hear him bustling around the room, so you’re not worried. This is nice. Even feverish, you feel pleasant.

When Wolfwood returns to the couch, his dog ears are peeking out of his hair. He kneels by you to check your temperature. Spotting your chance, you scratch at the base of his ears, listening for the satisfying thump of his tail hitting his thigh when you get the spot he really likes.

“What a good boy,” you coo, forgetting yourself.

He laughs at you, watching you fluster. “Did you forget I’m not a real dog?”

Your face is hot, but not from the fever.

A few months into the strange miracle of having someone else to care for, and someone to care for you, Wolfwood asks you for an unusual favor.

“Can you get me a collar?”

Your gaze sweeps over him, considering. “I don’t know how I’d feel about that now that I know you’re a man.”

“Honest, aren’t you?” When he smiles, you can see his fangs. It’s strangely charming, the wink of white bone in the corner of his mouth.

“Why do you even want one?”

“I dunno, instinct? It just feels nice.” He braces his hand against his throat, testing the way it’d feel. “Yeah. It feels like something’s missing.”

“That’s strange. I thought you’d prefer to be free.”

He stretches out, lifting his arms. You can see the muscle lining his back beneath his thin, nearly transparent white tee. “Freedom is relative. Everyone is tied to something, you know. No use in pretending otherwise.”

You tap his nose playfully. With a mischievous look in his eyes, he lunges forward and snaps his teeth over your finger.

“You can be wise for a puppy,” you say teasingly.

“Like I keep telling you, I’m a man,” he says, roughly pulling you towards him so he can punish you by messing with your hair. You shriek in protest, trying to push him off, but the request sticks inside your head.

On the weekend, you take a few leashes from the right section and sneak into a quieter corridor in the pet store. Even though you’ve agreed to this for Wolfwood’s sake, it’s still embarrassing. You have your pride, and it’d be hard to explain to anyone what your actual situation is.

Perhaps understanding your plight, Wolfwood doesn’t mess with you as he usually does. Or maybe he’s just pliant at the thought of getting what he wants as you clip the leather around his neck.

It looks good on him, you have to admit. He looks almost like a punk rock star, transforming it from dog collar to statement necklace.

You flick the tag on his neck, watching the silver circle twinkle with your name and number. It’s meant for him to wear when he chooses to go on walks himself as a dog. “Now it’ll be okay even if you do get lost,” you tell him, satisfied.

“I’d be fine either way,” he says. “I know the way home.”

For some reason, that makes you feel as owned as he looks, even though you’re not the one with a collar around your neck.

#wolfwood x reader #trigun x reader #Nicholas Wolfwood X reader #sera writes

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gold-pavilion · 7 months

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Hanafuda references in Izana & Kakucho

I love how full of references all of Tokyo Revengers is, so here's a thread about the links to hanafuda around Izana and his kingdom!! Cause it's a week till S3 and I'm excited!!

As expected, his earrings are the best place to start from.

So first of all, I'll explain what the hanafuda deck is and which card from it they're representing.

Even though they only contain pictures without any visible numeric value or indicator, hanafuda are playing cards. They surfaced exactly like this in order to avoid prohibitions around gambling way back in the Edo period, when foreign playing cards were banned. These slipped much more easily under the radar.

As such, hanafuda became kind of a discreet symbol of the illegal. Peony cards were a sign of prostitution, for one, and the whole deck was a staple of gambling. Which is why, even though that time passed and hanafuda cards did stay as regular playing cards, it's fun to have the leader of a criminal group wear one.

Izana's card is the Full Moon, a highly-ranked card within the game (one of the 5 "lights" or "bright cards" which give the most points).

The hanafuda deck is distributed by months, in 12 groups of 4 cards each; each month also has an assigned flower/tree that appears in the 4 cards, visually tying them together. This card of the full moon over the pampa is part of the August set, matching Izana's birthday month!

But the hanafuda references aren't only around him. Moving on to his servant:

Kakucho's name (just Kakucho, mistakenly believed to have a surname due to a faulty fantranslation) is made of the kanji 鶴 (kaku) and 蝶 (chou), which mean "crane" and "butterfly". Both hanafuda cards.

The crane card is part of the January set and is one of the Lights, as it also depicts the sun over the pine trees. Being a Light, getting it alongside the full moon card is really advantageous and can build you some of the most point-earning hands. The butterfly card is part of the June set, depicting butterflies over a peony flower.

Both cranes and butterflies are thematically assigned to Kakucho! Taking a close look at his volume cover outfit, a crane pattern can be seen on the fabric, as well as a butterfly wing shape on the bottom of the jacket. Motifs that Wakui selected carefully for him.

( scan/translated commentary from @yokohamabeans )

What's more… take a look at Izana's recent illustration for the Nov 2023 TR Expo, 'cause it's pretty interesting in this regard.

Aside from the peacock motif and the yin-yang that were used for this outfit, there's a little cameo on the inside of the jacket: a crane. If you zoom in and take a good look at the bird's head, you can tell it apart from the peacocks. And another one, even harder to spot, so tiny that @anantagonist had to point it out to me: a butterfly, right above that.

No other Tenjiku member is linked to hanafuda references (the Haitani brothers have their assigned flowers, neither happens to match the flowers depicted in the deck), but Izana and Kakucho sure are closely linked through it. It's something they alone share.

Isn't it cool? Let me know if you dig this kind of reference-listing posts, 'cause with TR there is so much to dig into.

#tokyo revengers #tr meta #kakucho #izana #kurokawa izana #kakuchou #kakuiza #izakaku #references in media #tokyo rev #thoughts and talk and so

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twstbookclub · 2 months

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Inked Blossoms

Summary: Jamil didn't think much of you when he received a flower basket. You were his new neighbor running a flower shop—nothing more, nothing less. So, why can't he stop coming by after visiting you once? POV: 2nd Person Pronouns: Gender-neutral Admin/Writer: Cressa🦋 Tags: Tattoo Artist x Florist AU, Tattoo Artist!Jamil, Florist!Reader, Fluff, Romance, Angst, No happy ending, sorry folks, Mentions of Blood and Self-harm, Use of Flower Language, Jamil's POV Word Count: 4, 025 Main Reference for Flower Meanings: Boeckmann, C. (2023, November 17). What does each flower symbolize? The Old Farmer's Almanac.

And I thought the Riddle fic I wrote is my longest one 💀 I actually had this plot in mind in the same month as I thought of the Riddle fic, which was back in April of last year. I only put in one link here, but I fact-checked every flower I used in this fic with other sources. Admittedly, when I wrote this, I received some heartbreaking news that morning and I cried my eyes out. I may or may not have projected those feelings into this and incorporated my previous experiences here. To all the Jamil stans, I'm so sorry that my first fic of this guy is long and angsty. I hope you all enjoy, though 💕

Jamil stared at the flowers on his parlor’s doorstep. Pink peonies and coral roses filled the twine basket, along with a purple flower that he didn’t know the name of. The arrangement emphasized the purple flowers, while there were a few peonies mixed in with the roses. What piqued Jamil’s curiosity were the leaves that lined the edges of the basket. He squinted, subconsciously leaning down to peer at the blooms at his feet.

“... Is that basil?” He mumbled, confused about the inclusion of a familiar herb. It was something he often used in his cooking, particularly when he was roommates with Kalim back in high school. That boy’s palate was too refined for anything bland and ready-made, so Jamil always had to cook with spices and herbs. It came to the point that the smell stuck to his clothes, even after a thorough wash in the laundry. Not just his clothes—even his hair. He already had a meticulous process with his hair care and bejeweled braids, so it was a nuisance.

He shook his head, before he took the flower basket in his hands. The blooms jostled a little, and a gentle hand pushed a peony back in place. Something nagged at Jamil to look to the left, for some reason. When he turned his head, the sign of the shop next door caught his attention.

“A flower shop, huh.” That was new. Jamil vaguely remembered this lot being sold recently, but he never thought it’d be turned into a store like that. It used to be an antique store owned by an elderly woman. She minded her own business, despite the weird and judgmental looks he received for the henna tattoos that decorated Jamil’s tan hands and arms.

Jamil’s eyes darted from the cursive letters of the sign to the flowers and plants displayed behind the glass walls. The name of the shop was painted on one of the walls in gold—above some of the artful arrangements of red roses, white carnations, and calla lilies. There was a shift of color behind them, and he narrowed his eyes again for a better look.

Someone was tending to the flowers. He could vaguely make out the color of their hair and the verdant apron over a white polo shirt. With the large bouquets in the way, Jamil couldn’t see a face. Sighing and shaking his head, he walked into his tattoo parlor with the flower basket in his arms.

If all his time in the city taught him anything, it was that nothing in this world was free.

Still, Jamil couldn’t help but wonder what the purple flowers were. They reminded him of tulips, but the petals were thinner and pointed at the tips. The stamen was visible, too. It was a stark contrast to the blooming tulips he knew: blunt-tipped and oval petals without the stamen being visible. He made a mental note to search about them once he went home.

Jamil found out that the purple blooms were called crocuses, and he wound up finding a website detailing the meanings of every flower imaginable. The flowers replaced the lamp that used to be on the table next to his bed. Every morning, he’d wake up to the colorful arrangement in a vase with his mind stuck on the meaning of each flower.

Maybe he should see what the florist was like. If they were like the antique shop owner from before, then Jamil would just remain polite and ignore them whenever he could.

On a slow and quiet day in the parlor, Jamil flipped the sign and locked the door. He shoved the key in his pocket, while his eyes drifted to the flower displays and bouquets through the glass walls. A blur of white and green moved behind them, but he still couldn’t put a face to the florist.

Jamil would have to see if he was curious enough to put a name to that face, too.

A chime echoed in the store once he stepped inside, and an onslaught of fragrance hit him. He noted that it wasn’t as powerful as the smell of spices, ones that he can taste from the scent alone. Still, it was strong enough to leave him a little lightheaded.

“Ah, welcome!” A voice rang through the back, behind an open door that led to what Jamil assumed was a small greenhouse. Sacks of fertilizer and clay pots filled with flowers peeked out of the metal shelves. The sight was obscured by a green apron, stitched with the same cursive letters of the store sign.

Charcoal gray eyes met lively, cheerful ones. The gloved hands that gripped the door frame were smeared with soil, maybe even fertilizer. Dirt smudged your cheek, but his gaze drifted to your lips. Your smile—too bright to be natural—was difficult to look away from. Something churned in his chest the longer he looked at it.

“Oh,” you mumbled, which made Jamil look back into your eyes again, “you’re my next-door neighbor. Hi! I hope you like the flowers. I’m, uh…”

A sheepish chuckle left your lips, making Jamil’s heart lurch. He resisted the urge to scowl at the feeling. He just met you, and he’d rather not make a bad impression. The tattoo artist came to your store to meet you like a proper neighbor, not to antagonize you.

“I came by to say hi, and you weren’t there. I had to get the shop ready and all, so I decided to leave the basket and hope that it stays there—” You sighed, took off one of your gloves, and ran a hand through your hair— “and I’m rambling. Sorry about that.”

Jamil watched you, anxious and fidgety, and he suppressed a smile. There was something amusing about how you acted like a mouse: squeaking and retreating at any sign of danger. Although, he highly doubted that you saw him as a threat.

You were just… shy. You talked a lot, but you were shy.

“It’s fine,” Jamil raised a hand and smiled, practiced and polite, “and I appreciate the flowers. Thank you. It’s a beautiful arrangement—you have a way with bringing out their natural beauty.”

He probably laid it on too thick. It was a habit at this point: butter up people to ease them, to let their guard down. Jamil merely planned to meet this florist to satisfy his curiosity. He never considered the option of befriending this person, much less engaging in a long conversation with you.

Your face lit up, as if something dawned on you in that moment. Chuckling, you stretched out the hand without the glove and gave him your name. It was followed with a cheerful, “It’s nice to meet you! I hope we can get along, um…”

“Jamil,” he shook your hand with that same, practiced smile, “Jamil Viper. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He noticed your eyes dart towards his hand and arm, inked with the traditional motifs and patterns of his homeland. Under the sunlight that streamed through the glass, your eyes seemed to sparkle. Your mouth parted in a silent, “Oh.”

“That’s so pretty,” you blurted out and continued to stare at the henna tattoos. Jamil simply watched you with wide eyes, but the surprise disappeared in that same instant. Your voice, loud and happy, filled the silence of the room.

“The amount of detail here is amazing, and—Oh, there’s even more tiny patterns inside another pattern. That’s so cool!”

Even though this much praise usually annoyed Jamil (it reminded him too much of Kalim), he found himself flustered. A faint warmth spread across his cheeks as he watched you marvel at the tattoos. You raised a hand, probably to trace the design with a finger, when you paused.

Your smile was frozen on your face, as if you caught yourself doing something embarrassing. Your own cheeks flushed in shame, before you pulled away with a nervous giggle. Jamil almost laughed at how ridiculous you looked at the moment.

He ignored the small voice in the back of his mind that called you cute.

It was supposed to be a one-time encounter. Jamil only visited your flower shop to see the person who opened a new business next to his tattoo parlor. He wanted to see whether this new neighbor of his was going to be tolerable or otherwise. One meeting was enough to deem you tolerable; someone that Jamil could politely wave to if you two happened to pass by each other.

So, why was he looking at a bouquet of irises and white jasmines right now? Why was he standing in your store on a Sunday morning?

“You’ve been coming a lot here lately.” Your voice rang from the back, much like how Jamil first met you. He looked over his shoulder to see you admiring the other flowers with a small smile.

“I don’t mind, really, and it’s nice to have you here. I just didn’t expect you to come here almost every day,” you clarified with a chuckle as you approached him. The telltale flush of your cheeks already told Jamil about how embarrassed you were to confess that. He watched you caress one of the petals of a hydrangea with a gentle look.

For a weekend, it was surprisingly quiet here. People flocked to your store during its first week, and Jamil observed all this in the comfort of his parlor. The window provided a clear view of what was going on, so he didn’t need to go outside. You became frazzled in a matter of moments—running around and arranging the flowers yourself—and that amused Jamil. Just a bit.

Still, you smiled throughout that hectic week.

Me neither, Jamil wanted to say. Instead, he answered, “It’s another slow day in my shop, so I decided to visit. I suppose it’s become a habit whenever I have nothing else to do.”

You chuckled, and Jamil pretended his heart didn’t skip a beat. He ignored the twitch of his lips, curling into a small smile. Oblivious to the look the tattoo artist gave you, you continued to admire the flowers.

“That’s fine with me. Besides, I like your company.”

Your shameless honesty was going to be the death of Jamil. The tips of his ears grew warm, and he tugged his hood over them. He already concluded that you were a thoughtful and considerate person after spending some time with you. You prepared tea and cookies, ones you yourself baked, every time he visited. Careful hands arranged the flowers by meaning and color, which already said enough about you. Being a florist sounded just right for someone like you.

Jamil briefly wondered what flowers you’d give him if you wanted to give him a bouquet.

He cleared his throat, mimicking a cough, before he shifted his attention to the irises and jasmines again. Ever since he searched the meanings of the flowers in that basket, he couldn’t help but be curious.

“Can you tell me what these mean in flower language?” He asked, glancing at you from behind his hood. Whether you found this action odd or not, you didn’t comment on it.

With a curious hum, you leaned over to look at what Jamil referred to and smiled wider. You replied, “Ah, irises can mean wisdom, faith, trust, valor, and hope. As for white jasmines…”

You raised an eyebrow at Jamil with a mischievous grin. He didn’t dare entertain the thought that you were being adorable from the action alone. He didn’t dare hope that the gesture actually meant something.

“They can mean sweet love, and the person who receives them is seen as friendly and pleasant.” You paused, before you suddenly left Jamil’s side and reached for the adjacent wall of flowers. Before Jamil could say anything, you already extended a white bloom under his nose.

Wide-eyed and bewildered, he stared at the flower in your hand. It somewhat resembled a rose in full bloom, but the petals were shaped differently. Another amused laugh echoed in the room. You took his hand, inked with intricate patterns that crawled his skin like vines, and placed the flower in it.

Jamil realized that it was a gardenia. This species of flora grew in some part of the botanical garden of his high school. He was only familiar with it because he used to pass by the area to relax, preferably alone.

“I think this suits you, though.” You hummed and returned to the counter with a spin of your heel. Jamil watched you wordlessly as you disappeared into the greenhouse. From where he stood, the tattoo artist saw pink and white camellias peeking through one of the shelves. He nearly jumped when your head popped out of the door frame.

“Oh, and can you help me carry some of these pots around? They’re pretty heavy, thanks!”

It was only until Jamil got home that he searched for the meaning of the gardenia. The bright laptop screen glared at him as he entered the keywords in the search bar. He clicked on the first result and—

Jamil stared at the words with darkening cheeks. His mouth became dry, and his tongue was tied into knots. His hand slammed the monitor shut, before he abruptly stood up and left for the kitchen. He needed some water. He needed to not think too much into things. You were going to be the death of him, Jamil swore to that.

Still, the words were already seared into his memory: you’re lovely.

Jamil found himself visiting you whenever he could. You always asked for his help whenever heavy labor was involved. If it was anyone else, he would’ve felt annoyed. With you, it was just an excuse for Jamil to stay longer.

Fleeting touches, subtle glances, and shy smiles—it was like your own language. Not a single word was exchanged, yet it felt like you said more than Jamil could comprehend. He didn’t miss the moments when your hands lingered too long over his. He would be a fool not to notice that a cookie jar and a box of teabags sat on the counter each time he visited.

For the past year, you’d give him a single flower every day without fail. One time, after the usual tea, it was a morning glory. Another time, when you were particularly homesick and Jamil stayed to chat, you gave him a hydrangea. When he visited your house and took care of you when you became sick, you gave him a yellow lily the next day. He always brought them home, but it came to the point that a mishmash of flowers in a vase brought color and life to his workspace. It sat under the window, where it bathed under a patch of sunlight. He even considered buying another vase due to the sheer amount.

You gave him all kinds of flowers, but he’d never forget the first gardenia he received from you.

“That looks out of place,” one customer pointed out while Jamil prepared the needle. He already knew what he was talking about, but the tattoo artist still followed his line of sight. A soft smile stretched from one ear to the other, and he didn’t bother hiding it.

Without looking away from the flowers, he answered, “They’re gifts from a friend. It’s the only place I can think of where they can be cared for.”

He ignored the sly, knowing grin on the customer’s face. Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, Jamil gestured towards the chair and continued to prepare everything he needed for this job.

One sunny day, your storefront was crowded more than usual. Jamil paid no mind to the crowd as he pulled his hood over his head. Inked hands grabbed a bundle of flowers, tied with twine, from the table. They were placed far from the vases that decorated the parlor; just to avoid confusion. His eyes fell on the gardenia he drew on the back of his hand. Jamil added that some time ago, maybe around the past month. Still, it made him smile.

Jamil locked the door, then he instinctively looked at the flower shop. His heart stuttered at the sight of the flowers amongst the crowd. The vibrant and lively blossoms were like a splash of color against the dull tones of the city. What used to be gray pavement and monochrome buildings seemed to come to life with just a few flowers.

He blinked his surprise away, before he gripped the bouquet in his hands. The thrum of his heart and the sweat on his palms weren’t something foreign to Jamil. He always felt like this at the thought of you, even Kalim noticed the change in his friend when he visited once. Your smile flashed in his mind, and his own lips curled into a small one. His feet led him to where he knew you were.

Past the flower shop; past the crowd that lingered at the storefront; past the fresh flowers that gathered against the glass walls. Jamil’s feet grew heavier with each step, as if lead hit the concrete and left faint cracks behind. He stepped through the iron-wrought gates with a soft exhale. His grip on the flowers tightened. He considered going back to the tattoo parlor.

In the end, he thought he’d regret it if he backed out now. Blades of grass grazed his sneakers as he walked through rows of stones. Names were etched into each one, a reminder of who they were to the loved ones left behind. Charcoal gray eyes looked straight ahead. He didn’t bother looking at any of them.

It had been a year since that day, but he still remembered where you were.

Grass crunched under his feet as he stopped in front of an unassuming headstone. Engraved in the stone was your name—funny how he never knew your surname until the funeral. You never told him when you introduced yourself, and he didn’t pry. He even imagined you with his surname at some point, but…

Jamil swallowed the lump in his throat. He crouched on one knee and laid the bundle of flowers on your grave. The tattoo artist made the effort of arranging the colorful blooms in a way that you would. At least, how he remembered that you would.

He stood with his hands in his pockets, and he stared at your gravestone with that same lump in his throat. A sigh rang in the empty cemetery. A cool breeze carried the hustle and bustle of the city. The laugh that used to plague Jamil’s everyday life here was missing. It was gone for months now, but he could still hear it clearly in his head.

“Hey,” Jamil mumbled, clenching his hands into fists, “it’s been a while. I’m sorry I only visited today. It… took me some time to come to terms with what happened. Regardless, you deserved an earlier visit.”

No answer, Of course, there was no answer. You’ve been dead for quite some time now. That was an understatement, considering that a year has already passed.

Jamil’s stomach churned, and an insufferable heat filled his chest. His eyes stung. His nails pierced into the skin of his palms. The lump in his throat seemed to grow bigger, and he found it hard to breathe. Memories of your smile, your laugh, and the time he spent with you and your flowers overlapped in his mind.

He dug his heels into the dirt as he gritted his teeth. The sting behind his eyes grew worse. It was hard to breathe, and he found it harder to speak. He somehow forced the words out with a broken heart, pieces scattered along the ashes of what was left of you.

“You idiot,” Jamil choked out as his vision blurred with tears, “you could’ve called me to help you. How was I supposed to know you were still sick? How was I supposed to know you needed to carry that ridiculously huge flower display across the street? How was I supposed to know that car would lose control and—”

Jamil looked up to the sky with a clenched jaw, teeth clacking and shaking his skull from the force. He wanted to scream. He wanted to curse whatever deity existed in this world. He wanted to forget how you looked, pale and bleeding on the street, that day. He wanted to erase that memory of you until his heart bled out and his voice croaked its last scream.

“—they haven’t found the driver. Everyone who knew you petitioned to keep the shop in your memory. Someone else took over, too. You don’t have to worry about your flowers anymore.”

Since that day, whenever Jamil looked at the ink that adorned his hands and arms, all he remembered was your loud voice and bright smile. Your praise and astonishment echoed in his head like a broken record player. He couldn’t count the amount of times he tried to scrub them clean from his skin. If that didn’t work, he scratched at them until he bled and the patterns were hidden under that shade of red.

In hindsight, Jamil thought that was idiotic of him. Love turned anyone into idiots, anyway.

Sighing, Jamil forced the tears back and looked down at your gravestone. If he tried hard enough, he could imagine you smiling and laughing again. The image of you, lifeless and still on the road, would become a scar that faded with time. He hoped it would be.

“I thought of giving you baby’s breath,” Jamil began as the lump in his throat returned, “along with forget-me-nots, and blue salvia. It would be a horrible contrast, but I also thought of adding pink carnations.”

He paused, before bitterly chuckling to himself. “I don’t have your skills, though. You were always amazing with flower arrangements. I couldn’t hold a candle to you, and I rarely tell anyone that. I didn’t want to give you something that was less than perfect—you deserve more than that, so I settled with sweet peas.”

Jamil knew he was talking to himself. He always found it ridiculous how anyone talked to the dead, even if he understood the necessity to respect the ones who passed. This one time, he understood why people did this. Jamil just couldn’t bring himself to accept the circumstances that led to that revelation.

“They mean goodbye in flower language, but I prefer the other meaning. Maybe, in another life, I would’ve bought you flowers for a date. I was thinking of asking you on a date before. Did you know that?”

Another bitter chuckle. Another shaky breath.

“I was supposed to ask you that day. I finally found the courage to try, and what did I see? You…” The words were stuck in Jamil’s throat. He couldn’t force the words out this time. The clamor outside and the harsh slam of his parlor door echoed in his memories. He didn’t want his last memory of you to be your dying breath. He’d rather not remember that at all.

Jamil shook his head and continued, “I apologize for that. What you need to know is that I like you. I may even go so far as to say I love you, and I’m sorry I never told you earlier. I hope you can forgive me for that.”

The tattoo artist sat down in front of your headstone. He didn’t care if dirt and grass stained his jeans this time. He reached out to trace the name etched into the stone, with the same hand where the inked gardenia peeked out of his sleeve.

“I like your flowers. I like all of them. I still keep them with me. I wish I told you that sooner,” Jamil mumbled, voice cracking at the end. A tear rolled down his left cheek and dripped into the soil. His shoulders shook in a silent sob as he breathed his last words to you.

“Thank you for a lovely time. I’ll never forget you.”

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barelymaddy · 11 months

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General love reading

Pile 1 Pile 2 Pile 3

Pile 1

Cards:4 of swords,3 of wands,6 of wands,Judgement(Tarot of the Divine);Release your ex(Romance Angels);Pansy(Botanical Inspirations oracle)

Hello Pile 1!First of all,i feel a very exciting energy coming from this pile,so maybe you feel ready to get back into the dating game!I see that your love life might have been stagnant for a while,maybe even heartbreaking for some,but no worries!Your efforts were noticed by The Universe!You are encouraged to step out and go outside if you didn't already.Try and join as many events and you will notice many people admiring you.Now its the time for you to shine!I get a feeling that you will meet someone special in the near future who will really help you grow.It is possible that some of you will live the fairytale romance that you always dreamed of this summer!No matter what,your love life will certainly not be dull anymore,Pile 1.For some of you,this connection will help you release old lovers or old habits that stayed in the way of your emotional growth.Try to be optimistic and you will surely be rewarded by the universe!There is a lot of focus here on being confident (hot girl summer💅).Im also picking up on fire energy so either you or your person could be a fire sign or things will move very quickly for you.

Other messages:the color orange,ladder, sunrise,bondage,horse,carnaval,mountain,text message,night time,garden

Pansy meaning in flower language:"Think about me"

Song:

Pile 2

Cards:10 of coins reversed,Page of cups,5 of swords,Queen of cups(Tarot of the Divine);Healing family issues(Romance angels);Peony

Hey there Pile 2!So i noticed very quickly that your energy is blocked,which also affects your love life.You recently have gone through a betrayal of some sorts.This person really took advantage of you and made you feel very unstable.Spirits told me that you need to open up your heart to others and seek out help.It is not good to bottle up your feelings.I'm also hearing that this person might have been from your family or your family is an important element when it comes to your love life.This events left you without hope for the future but you mustn't give up!There are lot of amazing things held in store for you!If you learn to open up The Universe will help you to move on and find the love that you always craved for.I'm hearing that a female figure in your life is worried about you and really insistent in talking with you about your feelings.Don't let anybody hold you back from working towards your dream life!Try to appreciate your present a bit more,and you might find some surprises!For some of you,there's a person who has a crush on you but they're refusing to tell you in fear of rejection and because they know that you're going through tough times.No matter what,you'll come out stronger from this, but you don't have to do it alone.There is love all around you you just have to notice it!

Other messages:baby pink,crib,downtown, forest,Last Night in Soho(movie),knife,flowers, napkin,crying session

Peony meaning in flower language:"Anger and shame"/"Prosperity and compassion"

Song:

Pile 3

Cards:Knight of cups,The World,The Hanged Man,10 of cups reversed(Tarot of the Divine);Getting to know each other(Romance Angels);Hyacinth

Hey Pile 3!So it looks like you have been talking recently with a person that you tought will be your future partner but it just didn't work out.The spirits say that you're too fixated on finding love and you need to take a break and enjoy life.Only then you will be able to receive romance into your life.You've worked very far to get here and it would be a shame to not enjoy your acomplishments.Try and give the same attention you give to other people to yourself.You will then benefit from a glow up!You will also start to enjoy your presence so much that you wont even think about love,and then BAM!💥Love will come knocking at your door!I'm also hearing that you need to take things slow.Maybe try to really get to know the people around you instead of romanticizing them.You will be surprised by some of them!(in either good or bad ways).You need to learn to fall in love with the person,not the idea of them you created in your head.I know you may feel very unfulfilled right now in your love life,but it will get better,you just need to learn to choose the right people for you.Don't be a doormat to them!(this was for a specific person lol,their spirit guide was screaming at me🤣).Overall,don't take things too seriously,try to be a bit more playfull and remember to have fun and put yourself first for once!

Other messages:rose garden,greenhouse,water, warm weather,vacation,pink,shopping,Hawaii, cabin,friends,lovers,big birds,Mexico,family time

Hyacinth meaning in flower language : "Constancy"/"Playfulness"

Song:

That's it,hope it resonate with you~

#pick a pile #pick a card #pick a card reading #love reading #love life #romance #tarot reading #divination #witchcraft #flower language #flowers #Spotify

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you-remind-me-of-the-babe · 28 days

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Happy Wednesday! I’m on spring break and blissfully alone at a cafe writing for a few hours this morning. The weather is just starting to turn nice (though its supposed to rain tomorrow) but I can feel spring coming properly, which makes me happy. I hope y’all are getting some nicer weather soon, too.

I’m plugging away on my new WIP. I previously mentioned I’m tentatively titling it Back and Back and Back. I also quite like Start at the End, though I’m not sure if that description will end up strictly accurate, so might not work. We shall see.

I’m going to go ahead and share the premise now (or rather, the inspiration) because why not? I was reading through @carryonprompts and found this one and quite liked the idea. I started daydreaming about it in earnest right away. This was the first thing I wrote:

Past

BAZ age 6, 2003

When I get home from school, Vera always makes me a snack. After that, I’m supposed to do my homework before I’m allowed to go outside and play. There’s always pages and pages of it, and it’s horrid, because it’s so easy, it makes me want to rip it to pieces, or hide it under my bed. And if I have to read one more book about Dick and Jane, I think I might scream. (I’ve read every one of the books in my Beatrix Potter collections. Doesn’t my teacher know that if I can read words like presently, I shouldn’t need to read these baby primers?)

Even though I could do this stuff in my sleep, it’s going to have to wait because today he is here.

Or at least, I think he is. I only saw a flash of red out beyond the trees, but that’s as good a sign as any. I don’t want to make him wait, because I don’t know how long he’ll have to visit today, so I have to plan my escape quite quickly.

I don’t imagine this holding too closely to the book/movie. I’m taking inspiration from parts I liked (and can remember 15 years later lol) but shaping this to be a Watford-era, canon divergent fic with some time traveling/soul mate/destiny elements. It feels very ambitious for me to try writing time travel because it hurts my brain to even consume time travel media sometimes 🤣 and I am much more of a pantser than a planner when I write. Then again, the prospect of pulling off this sort of challenge intrigues me. Wish me luck!

Tags/hello/hope you are well 😘

@fatalfangirl @whatevertheweather @thewholelemon @cutestkilla @moodandmist @mooncello @aristocratic-otter @artsyunderstudy @bookish-bogwitch @facewithoutheart @valeffelees @shrekgogurt @iamamythologicalcreature @youarenevertooold @brilla-brilla-estrellita @forabeatofadrum @j-nipper-95 @larkral @leithillustration @messofthejess @captain-aralias @nightimedreamersworld @wellbelesbian @run-for-chamo-miles @roomwithanopenfire @raenestee @rimeswithpurple @theimpossibledemon @theearlgreymage @whogaveyoupermission @monbons @noblecorgi @emeryhall @ivelovedhimthroughworse @ileadacharmedlife @that-disabled-princess @blackberrysummerblog @prettygoododds @ic3-que3n @hushed-chorus @orange-peony @alexalexinii @angelsfalling16 @arthurkko @letraspal @supercutedinosaurs

#Seriously wish me luck #i think this is going to be hard #I know I will hit a wall at some point and need to brainstorm and bounce ideas off of someone #so if figuring out the intricacies of a time travel relationship with different knowledge/experience with each other than the other person #sounds like your jam please hit me up #I’m sweating just typing that and wondering if it even makes sense 💀😅#snowbaz #baz pitch #simon snow #my writing #carry on fanfiction

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artsyunderstudy · 3 months

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WIP Wednesday

Hello hello happy Wednesday. I'm here to report that this fic (Fragile Bones) has me in a chokehold, and I've been writing every spare minute I've had since Saturday. Chapter 1 is with betas and the reviews so far are in all caps. Seems like a good sign.

Here's a little more of that.

“Seven snakes, that figures,” Dev grouses as he pushes up to his feet. “And on the one nice day we’ve had in two bloody weeks. Fuck.”

“Truly your life is a series of tragedies,” I drawl, my eyes locked on Snow as he leaps to action. Then on the blur of orange and red, smoke trailing behind it like a jet engine as it dives.

“I’m getting out of here,” Dev says. “You two as well, that thing could light the whole forest on fire.”

Snow’s sword is out, barely blocking the first attack from the firebird. A burst of sparks flies in his face at the impact, and he stumbles back, holding the defence. It’s clumsy. Slow. He’s never this slow.

There’s a tug at my sleeve. “Seriously, Baz, let’s go,” Niall says.

I finally stand. “No. Someone has to keep Snow in check.”

“And that’s you?” Dev asks. “Since when?”

“Those yews are ancient. Deep magick,” I say in explanation, already stalking toward the trees. It’s enough of a truth that Dev can’t argue against it. “Where the fuck is Bunce?”

“Fine!” Dev shouts after me as I break into a run.

Tags under the cut!

@imagineacoolusername @martsonmars @valeffelees @bazzybelle @ileadacharmedlife @aristocratic-otter @urban-sith @letraspal @palimpsessed @whatevertheweather @nightimedreamersworld @carryonsimoncarryonbaz @raenestee @confused-bi-queer @moodandmist @yeonjunenby @shrekgogurt @thewholelemon @whogaveyoupermission @onepintobean @ebbpettier @theearlgreymage @ic3-que3n @captain-aralias @fatalfangirl @prettygoododds @stitchyqueer @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @forabeatofadrum @ivelovedhimthroughworse @mysterioussheep @rimeswithpurple @c0nsumemy5oul @facewithoutheart @hushed-chorus @blackberrysummerblog @larkral @j-nipper-95 @alexalexinii @iamamythologicalcreature @supercutedinosaurs @wellbelesbian @that-disabled-princess @cutestkilla @youarenevertooold @emeryhall @best--dress @messofthejess @mooncello @orange-peony

#snowbaz fic #artsyfic #wip wednesday #baz is really emotionally attached to those trees

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tapwateronly · 6 months

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hello, you have reached @tapwateronly.

welcome to my blog

hii i’m Lania, i’m 19 years old and a student of dental medicine. my favorite color is pink and my favorite type of flowers are tulips and peonies. my star sign is Libra and here on tapwateronly, i share memes. enjoy ♡

want to be mutuals? sure lmk :)

do you want to find me elsewhere?

side blogs: @coldwateronly @sparklingwateronly

pinterest: porcelainswann

read before following

crediting; MOST of the memes i post on this blog are not mine. i usually don’t credit the memes because i don’t know who their original creators are and to be fair, the memes i make myself get taken without credit. i don’t care, but if you do, dm me for credit. i only credit if i know that you are the original owner of the meme, not just because of the fact that its not that deep in the first place, but also because you can hardly tell the real creator of the memes. i find the memes on other platforms not tumblr.

some of the memes are mine, but feel free to take them. i don’t want you to credit me.

about tags; usually they’re random. i may tag something with another name wrongfully, i don’t do that on purpose. i’m just in a community, like many other people, my posts usually have a certain aesthetic to them that people of that community are able to recognize. there’s really no need to attack me for tagging my posts randomly. sometimes i respectfully don’t care.

not everything i post completely reflects my personality; and you should know that about everyone online. because i post what i find funny and what i find funny is not always relatable to me or my personal life.

NSFW blogs, do not message me; feel free to interact or follow but do not message me, no matter what the context is about. you’re immediately getting blocked. if you really need to get your message across to me, message me on another blog, where i can take you seriously. yes i’m a horrible person, no i don’t care. this was a great conversation, this site is huge. im sure you can find another person that wouldn’t offend you lol.

call me a close minded person. but every blog has it’s own rules, and these are mine. learn to respect them.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ,, ⌲˘͈ᵕ˘͈

• if you click here you’ll get rick rolled. don’t say i didn’t warn you.

• life in isolation.

• don’t be sad, look at that ray of sunshine. it’s you. that’s how i see you, i love you.

thank you for reading my introduction

have any idea how long it took me to write? a long time.

but that doesn’t matter.

take care.

- tapwateronly

#introduction #nov 3rd 2023

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andreafmn · 3 months

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Running in Circles | Chapter 10

Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: mentions of death, religious trauma

Summary: (Y/N) Rossi is following in her father’s footsteps by joining the BAU team as a profiler. The girl genius knew almost everything but she could have never predicted falling for Aaron Hotchner, her boss, and her father’s friend. in their world mutual feelings are not enough to push them together. Will all the adversities and obstacles they face pull them together or push them apart forever?

A/N: a few days behind is better than a whole year 🫣 anywho very sentimental chapter ahead

<- Previous

Winter had come at full force that December, and maybe that was the first sign of all that was to come. But for (Y/N), it only signified the anniversary of her mother’s death.

Just like she had done every year before, she had taken that day off, knowing her mind would be elsewhere, and her body would want to be there. Even if it fell on a weekend, she had to be sure that no calls would disturb the day. The monsters could wait one more day.

She looked herself over in the mirror. The turtleneck she had chosen felt particularly choking, her pants hung too low for comfort, and her mother’s necklace stood out too brightly against the dark clothing. Nothing was right. Nothing would ever be right. She pushed her hair behind her shoulders and sighed. That was as good as it would ever get.

She slipped her coat on before she left her house, and she wondered what her mother would have thought of her home. Would she have wanted her closer to the family home? Would she have liked the décor? Would she have poked fun at how messy the house could sometimes get, or would she not have cared at all? Those were answers she would never get. At least not from the one person that mattered the most.

Her father’s car was waiting outside for her, his face wearing a similar solemn look to the one she had. It was the same routine every year. He’d come to pick her up, they’d go to the cemetery, and when David would tell stories of Iris, she would listen. Because she had none to share of her own. She had no memories, no stories, nothing to know of her mother that was her own.

“Hey, dad,” she said as she jumped into the SUV. “It’s a cold one today.”

“It really is,” he chuckled softly “I brought you some coffee and a butter croissant. Something tells me you didn’t eat breakfast today.”

“You know me too well, dad,” she snickered, taking the warm cup between her hands to heat her freezing hands. “Did you eat already?”

“Had myself a bowl of oatmeal with berries and bananas like your mom used to like,” he replied. “Washed it all down with some coffee and came here.”

“That’s good,” she croaked, forcing a smile. “Were you able to get the flowers? My local shop was closed when I went by yesterday.”

“Yeah. I’ve got the bouquet back there,” he smiled. “Peonies, irises, roses, lilies, and baby’s breath. All the ones she liked.”

Every time her father said things like that, her heart broke just a little more. He didn’t know it. She would never say it. But the fact that he had lived a life with her mother when she didn’t even know what she sounded like hurt. It pained her to miss a person she never had a chance to remember.

“Do you know it was your mom that would call you little bird?”

“Did she?”

“She said you were always jumping around and fleeting from flower to flower when you were outside, just like a hummingbird would. That’s why she got that necklace made for you,” David chuckled at the memory. “Even when you were just a little baby, you always seemed to calm when you were with her in the garden.”

“Well, her garden has to be the best one in all of Virginia. Even to this day.”

“You have Emile to thank for that,” he laughed. “If it had been up to me, it would have died so many years ago.”

“And I guess I inherited your lack of a green thumb.”

“That you did, little birdie,” he said. “But you did inherit her good taste. For your third birthday, the last one with your mother –may God have her in his glory—you insisted on having a garden fairy party. Iris asked you what flowers you wanted everywhere, and you said peonies. Well, at the time, you called them peenies.”

“I… I don’t remember that,” she stammered. “I wish I did.”

“That’s okay, little bird. We have the pictures, and I’m sure there’s a VHS somewhere with the video. Just have to check in storage, which might take a bit more than it should.”

“It wouldn’t if you let me organize it, dad. I’ve told you many times that you need to set up a system so things don’t get lost in all the junk you still have from the olden days.”

“Hey! You learned a lot from those olden days,” he pouted. “Those olden days paid for everything we have.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not disorganized.”

By the time they had reached the cemetery, they were a mix of laughter and sadness, coupled with the most beautiful bouquet they’d brought to date. There was a thin blanket of snow covering the ground, a cold breeze whistling through the air. It was a horrible day to be out, but they wouldn’t miss it for the world.

(Y/N) was expecting the bad weather. And although her coat did nothing to warm her against the wind, she hugged it closer to her body. What she was not expecting was to find Hotchner and Jack waiting on a bench right in front of her mother’s grave.

“Aaron,” David called out with a smile that alerted the father and son to their presence. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Once they were near enough, Jack took off on a soft run toward the woman. “(Y/N)!” he called as he reached to hug her. “You said we could come, remember?”

“Of course I do, buddy,” she smiled softly. “I’m happy to see you.”

“This is your mom, right?” The boy led her to her mother’s tombstone by the hand. “Iris Jensen.”

“That’s right,” she said. (Y/N) knelt down and ran her hand across the picture of her mother, tears already building in her eyes. “This is my mom.”

“She’s very pretty.”

“She is, isn’t she?” (Y/N) chuckled as her body betrayed her. Tears fell down her eyes before she could stop them, warming her skin before turning freezing under the weather. Jack quickly reached into his jacket, pulled out a blue handkerchief, and handed it to her. “Thanks, kid.”

“Jack, why don’t you join me on the bench, and I can tell you about her?” David said. “I’ve got some great stories.”

“Is that okay, (Y/N)?”

“Of course, Jack,” she smiled. “Go ahead.”

As the kid ran to her father, Hotchner wrapped his arms around her. Normally, she would have grown flustered at the interaction, but at that moment, she needed the comfort. “You okay?” he asked quietly. “This must be so hard.”

“I don’t know why I’m like this,” she muttered. “It’s been years already. I barely even knew her.”

“She was still your mom, (Y/N). It’s only natural that you feel this way.”

“I don’t even remember what she sounds like,” the woman sniffled. “I don’t even know what kind of mom she would have been growing up.”

“I… I’m sorry, (Y/N). I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s okay,” she smiled softly as she let him go. She got on her knees and started cleaning the tombstone, removing all specs of snow regardless of how futile it may have been. “There’s not much to say.”

“All I know is that I wish I had met her.”

“Yeah,” she chuckled. “Me too.”

Aaron left her by herself then, allowing her the space to tell her mother about the year that had passed. She told her about her cases, told her about her friends, and even told her about her ever-growing feelings for an unmentionable person. But, most of all, she told her about how much she missed her.

But it didn’t go over her head how she missed someone that much without really knowing who they were. She carried inside an emptiness that wasn’t easily filled, and as hard as her father tried, never would be. And David tried, in his own way. He had his own grief to carry, and she knew that. She knew he hurt and wished Iris was still with them. But he’d found solace in the time he had shared with her while (Y/N) yearned for even just a second more with her mom.

“I wish you were here, mom,” she cried as she stood. “I see videos of you, and I can’t tell if that’s what you really sounded like or if your voice is too distorted by the camera. I wish you’d had more time, mom.”

“You and me both, little birdie,” her father said as he joined her. “But she’s in God’s glory now.”

(Y/N)’s blood boiled at that moment. She had never been religious, much to her father’s dismay. More than just the deity not fitting into her scientific mind, she couldn’t believe in a god like her father did. Normally, she didn’t mind his religious interjections. They were a part of who he was, and she didn’t want to belittle his beliefs. But that day, something inside her couldn’t stand it. Much less when he started to mutter a prayer.

“I’ve asked you to please not pray aloud when we’re here, dad. Do you mind?”

“Honey…”

“No, dad. I really don’t want to listen to you talk about your god or ask to have mom in his infinite mercy. I don’t wanna hear about it!” Her tone came out harsher than she intended, but she couldn’t contain herself. Years and years of bottling up her feelings had her at her limit, and it was that moment that they had chosen to spill over. “Just, keep it in your head.”

“I don’t understand, (Y/N). You never minded before,” David muttered. “There was a time you used to believe in God. You even used to ask me to pray with you.”

“Jesus, dad, I did that for you.” As she exclaimed Hotch told Jack to wait for him in the car, that (Y/N) needed a moment to herself. Hesitantly, the boy followed his father’s instructions and walked the short trail to the van. All he could understand was that (Y/N) was upset. Once Jack was gone, she continued. “How could I ever believe in a god that took my mother away before I could even remember what my name sounded in her voice? I only went along with it because it seemed to make you happy, but I can’t anymore. I can’t listen to another word of how your god is merciful and how it was all his plan. He took my mother from me. How could I believe in a god that would take a mother from a child? All the memories I have of her are from behind a screen or moments lived by other people. I don’t remember anything about her that’s mine only, dad. You always tell me how you would love to have a second chance with my mom, and I didn’t even get one.”

(Y/N) crumbled to the ground once more and suddenly felt arms around her. Instantly, she knew who it was and found herself sinking into Hotch’s embrace. He tried his best to calm her, telling her that everything would be okay and that she wasn’t alone. She was normally the strong one. She was always the one who kept it all inside and helped others. But too many years of that had her shattered on the ground of the cemetery.

It took a few minutes for her sobs to finally subside, Hotch’s soothing circles on her arms working overtime to calm her down. They had ended up sitting on the cold ground, the snow slowly making its way through their clothes, but neither seemed to care. All that mattered was the comfort and the presence. Nothing else.

“You okay?” Hotch whispered as she finally seemed to calm. “Feeling better?”

“I don’t even know,” she chuckled weakly. “Your pants are dirty now. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, I have a washer,” he joked. “But how are you feeling? I know this must be a very overwhelming situation.”

“I don’t know what I’m feeling, honestly,” she sighed, sinking into the warmth of Hotchner. “It’s the first time I’ve ever blown up like that toward my dad, and I don’t know why I did. It’s been over twenty years that we’ve been coming here, and I’ve never acted like this.”

“I think it’s safe to assume you’ve been bottling up all these feelings for all that time. They were bound to come out one day or another.”

“Don’t profile me, Hotch,” she pouted. “But you’re right. I mean, he lost the woman he loved, and even though I lost my mom, I felt bad for him because he’s the one who had all the memories with her. I never wanted him to feel bad or guilty for the fact that I had to grow up without her. Still, every time he says something like her death was god’s plan or that he has her in her mercy, it just sets me off.”

“Have you ever thought that religion is the way that he copes with her death? Maybe thinking that she is in heaven or that it was her time is his way to come to terms with the fact that she is gone.”

“I guess a part of me does understand that. But there’s a side that doesn’t want to,” she sighed. “But I guess I have to apologize for the tantrum.”

“Your feelings are valid, (Y/N). It’s just the way you express them that could be hurtful to others. But your dad’s a big boy,” he chuckled softly. “He’s at the car with Jack. You ready to go over there?”

“As ready as I can be.”

Hotchner got up first, waiting with his hand extended until she needed it. And with another glance at the tombstone, she took the hand and stood up as well. The man walked beside her the entire time, his presence alone was enough to keep her grounded. As much as she wanted to break down and fall apart, she needed to keep it together.

“And she could spend days in her studio just painting, forgetting that hours passed. She would just lose herself painting and painting,” her father smiled as he talked to Jack. “She would have been there the entire day if I had let her.”

“Do you have any of her paintings still?”

“Of course! All over the house,” he chuckled. “Would you like to see them, Jack?”

“Yes! Can we, dad?” Jack asked as he noticed his father’s approaching figure. “I wanna see the paintings.”

“If it’s alright with Dave, then it’s alright with me.”

“Of course!” the man exclaimed. “The more the merrier. We’ll see you there.”

David and (Y/N) walked to the car in silence. Not saying a single word until they were inside. “I’m sorry, dad,” she finally muttered. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like I did. You don’t deserve that.”

“I’d say it was long overdue, kid,” he smiled softly. “You like to keep the peace and keep everything in. I’m surprised it hasn’t happened before. You have nothing to apologize for, little bird.”

“But I do, dad. I shouldn’t have yelled at you regardless.”

“Your mother used to say that yelling is the way the soul speaks,” he said. “When you can no longer keep anything in, it comes out fast and unmeasured. Words come out with thorns and spikes. And much like a flower, they don’t mean to hurt you, but it is in their nature to protect themselves. It’s okay to let it out once in a while. Doesn’t matter how it hurts. If my beliefs hurt you, mia bella, all you have to do is tell me. I will try my best to keep it to a minimum.”

“And I will try to talk about how I’m feeling instead of yelling it,” she smiled, taking her father’s hand in hers. “I love you, dad. And I’m still sorry.”

“I love you too, little bird,” he beamed. “And you can make it up to me by helping with dessert tonight. We’re making your mom’s favorite.”

“Tiramisu,” they chorused.

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annawayne · 5 months

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I see that you're Ukrainian and I saw two arts with Ukrainian culture. Is there some meanings behind it, references? Could you please tell more? I love seeing artist drawing their culture. It's amazing

OH, anon! You have no idea how it made me happy to know you're curious about my country. And yes, there's a lot to tell, so thank you so much for asking!

I'll try to keep it as short as possible and not turn it into the lecture, so here we go!

So, I have two arts, featuring Ukrainian culture

So, all the jewelry here is traditional Ukrainian jewelry, and not just random. Important note: all Ukrainian culture is about the beauty of layers, in clothes, jewelry, literature, in art.

For example, this one from the left art is called dukach - a medallion, which is supplemented with additional jewelry elements, such as ribbons, bows etc. Annie wears a lion medallion, of course, as a reference to her surname.

Another element, under the dukach, the necklace with the half moons, is called zgrada. The base consists of crosses in two or three rows strung on a string or a dart, in the spaces between them there are tubes or spirals made of brass or copper. Well, the truth is that zgrada can be not only with crosses but also with other elements. Here are half moons that are a reference to another Ukrainian piece of jewelry, lunnitsa. It's a talisman ornament in the form of a crescent with the tips down. Lunnitsa was called to ensure the continuation of the family, it was endowed with the properties of a family talisman, capable of harmonizing the relationship of spouses. It was also believed that the talisman promotes restful sleep, drives away nightmares, and protects the owner from nighttime evil spirits.

Finally, the red necklace that we call namysto. The more layers of necklaces a woman had, the wealthier she was considered. Here Annie wears 10 (!) strings of the namysto, and it's not just a "cheap" gem, it's corals!

Now, about earrings!

Both Armin and Annie wear earrings, and it's the usual shape of the Ukrainian traditional earrings, but we have a small interesting detail here with Armin.

Actually, in both arts Armin is a Cossack - the Ukrainian warrior, who decided against all odds to fight for the independence of Ukraine. All of them were struggling in slavery (not really the "usual" form of slavery but more military like) and under other countries' protectorate, but if we put it VERY simply, they were fed up and started fighting for Ukraine and the freedom of their homeland. That's why they are usually called "people of a free spirit".

And Armin wears earrings in both of his ears and in Cossack culture - it's also the symbol of his status. So, if the Cossask wears it on his left ear - indicates that the Cossack was the only son of his mother; on the right — signals that the man is the last representative of his family; both have a sign that the Cossack is the only child of his parents. So, yeah! Only child Armin!

About the embroidery!

Each region of Ukraine has various embroidery techniques, starting from the color of the threads used and to the ornaments/motifs the shirt is adorned. Both Armin and Annie wear floral and geometry ornaments that are widely used in the central-north part of Ukraine such as the Poltava and Chernihiv regions. But also you can find similar ornaments in Kharkiv, Donetsk, Luhansk, Zaporizhzhia, but all of them differ in colors and shapes.

Now, Annie's flower crown or wreath that we call vinok.

Usually, vinok is worn by girls and unmarried women, sometimes, even after marriage, women wear it, accompanied by a head shawl or kerchief. Flowers here aren't also random, but each of them symbolizes something: malva and peony - beauty, hope, the long lives and symbol of home, of Homeland; centaurea - simple and quiet life.

And ending it all, just want to add that the left art with the ornaments in the background - it's an imitation of one of the traditional Ukrainian ornaments that is widely used for the decoration of walls, plates, cups etc; and for the second one - Ukraine has a lot of sunflower fields, so that's landscape is very dear for me.

Thank you once again for asking, and I hope it was interesting!

#aruani #ukraine #ukrainian art #ukrainian culture #my art #art #digital art #illustration #attack on titan #armin arlert #shingeki no kyojin #annie leonhardt #annie leonhart #answered ask #ask #aruannie #арткозацтво #украрт

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zvirinabebez · 4 months

Text

“ douceur „

quanxi x fem florist | barista reader.

multiple part series. first part thats just pretty fluffy and romancey!! first time writing and actually publishing it so ermm leave tips ig idk. ik the pacing is weird but its bc i like to write in detail.

feminine reader x quanxi, includes romance. >:3 smut in later chapters or wtv.

disclaimer ; I've never written like romance before so forgive me lol. I write with extreme detail too so it probably gonna be the SLOWEST burn ever. also she smokes weed cuz ion fuck wit that cig shit lmfao

CHAPTER I

being a florist in tokyo isn't anything you thought you'd be finding yourself doing. though, being drawn to the sweet and naturey smell of flowers wouldn't suprise anyone who had known you before. head over heels constantly in love with all kinds of plants and flowers, from spider lilies to hydrangea, peony and flower arrangements in themselves.

. . .

you'd adjust your grip on the box cutter in your dominant hand, the vivid pink color of it mixing with the warm lighting above you, the blade swiftly and sharply cutting through the protruding thorns of the white roses, the remaining water inside would drip slightly onto the paper below the bouqet would find itself sitting inside of momentarily. a smell similar of freshly cut grass would fill your senses, and the cozy and comforting feel of the floristry – cafe place that you had recently assigned yourself to.

the smell of coffee, tea, and the baby's breath that sat to the right of you would fill the air, a rainy day with cars ever–so making light noises as their wheels splash and sputter inside of the puddles left by the rain. the annoying ding of the door would fill your ears once more, and like clock–work the all too familiar words would spill out of your mouth.

“ Welcome to Yrlissa's Flowery, How may I be of assistance? ”

as your eyes lazily drifted off the commissed bouqet that laid on the counter infront of you, your eyes would laid upon a tall lady, with a muscular yet slim figure. wispy bangs and a lacey eyepatch concealing her right eye. the rest of her thin hair contained by a black hairtie— who the hell visits a flower shop in a full black suit? Is she going to a fucking funeral ?

NOT professional thoughts. get it together!!!

the lady would approach the counter, with an almost monochromatic expression. not one emotion would appear on her face, and no body language out of the ordinary. her movements would seem almost perfected calculated, almost uncanny even, but as she grew closer the smell of the the roses and baby's breath would be replaced with the smell of marijuana.

the footsteps would come to a halt uncomfortably close to you, or maybe it would seem that way since shes near the height of a basketball player and you couldn't be any closer to a smurf, and also leaning over flowers with posture far from the best in the world– a few seconds of silence commence, the ladies eyes piercing above to read the sign. her lips parting to finally speak.

“A small espresso will do, please.”

“ would you like sugar or cream? ”

“ Surprise me. ”

the click of the box cutters blade retracting back into itself, and the clack of its placement onto the counter would follow her sentence. with your feet tapping to the cups behind you, and your body language obviously showing your nervousness, you'd swiftly grab it and draw back over to the counter near the woman.

tipping over the jug of geyser water just measuring to the line that marks a half liter. the sound of the water filling up would once again save you from extremely embarrassment from the pure awkwardness of the situation at hand.

. . . .

you'd stretch your hand over and weigh out 20 grams of coffee beans, pouring them into a small tin and placing them on the miniature scale. the lady bringing a stop to the awkward silence that filled the air.

“ I take it it's relaxing to work here hm? ”

“ It's nice on it's slow days, but then there's times like valentines day, and wedding season ykno? ”

“I'd imagine.”

as a few weeks passed, the lady swiftly became a regular. almost always coming in during your shift or being there before you clock in. a name you wrote on the coffee cup almost every shift, the type of name that rolls off your tongue sweet and slick, — quanxi. another day had arrived, opening the door to yrlissa's the bell would chime as you walked in, swiftly pittering to clock in, not missing quanxi sitting in the corner of the shop, as always.

she would stay for a few hours and make nice company on slow days, an often occurrence it would be to sit and speak with her while filling out the commissions for bouqets, and other kinds of assortments. it didn't take long to realize quanxi liked more to listen than to speak.

today was october 5th. the chill in the air sweeping into the store moments after the bell on the door would ring. it didn't take long for you to learn to brace yourself against the cold on the cue of the chime. completing the same ol' sequence you'd do everyday, steaming the milk and poking holes in the puck of espresso, yet this time for yourself to warm up on the cold day.

the thick fog outside would make seeing the people and events happening outside near impossible. pouring the milk, then espresso, a drizzle of caramel and whipped cream onntop, the perfect go—to drink. the cup would warm your hands, soothing you and bringing you into relaxation with the first sip, a small breath leaving your parted lips—

the all too familiar chime would fill your ears.

bruh.

quickly stepping behind the counter to at least shield your lower half. or.. 90% of ur body bc ur a fucking smurf. srry im writing this in my perspective im fucking 5'0. the chill would still expectedly hit your face and torso, sending a small shiver up your spine. gripping the cup of coffee just a bit tighter to warm your hands once again. fluttering your lashes and squinting to keep the ice cold air out of your eyes, you'd realize who'd walked in.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cold.” Quanxi would say, looking back and closing the door softly behind her as not to brush more cold air inside. this time she was wearing a brown turtle-neck under her coat and long black pants. she'd take a deep breath in and pull her other hand out of her pocket.

“you're fine don't worry. at least it's not another total stranger walking in, I think I'd rot inside having to make any more small talk today.” you'd set down your coffee to start her order, placing it beside the cash register and lean on the counter with the corner digging into your palms.

“Usual?”

“Mm.”

Quanxi would approach the table near the entrance of the work space, leaving about 3-5 feet in between the two of you as you started her order. It took her a few days in the beginning but she got what she wanted down pack. a shot of espresso, mixed softly into chocolate syrup followed by warm steamed milk and whipped cream. In other words, a Caffé Mocha. with some extra chocolate.

. . . should probably start that order

you'd started serving quanxi in the pretty white mugs boss lady told you not to use, simply to reduce dishes. but you didn't mind washing one or two for quanxi. You'd hear the clink of her keys being placed onto the table before she'd speak.

“How's work been treating you lately? ” Quanxi would say to you, looking at you completely still with a hand propped up under her chin, but still as nonchalant as usual. It was hard to believe she was genuinely interested sometimes.

pouring the chocolate into the bottom of the cup focusedly, to make it look as pretty and perfect as can be, you'd take a second before answering. “Horrible, Actually. This guy yesterday, came in and got mad at me because I forgot to put caramel on top of his frappe. He ended up throwing it on the floor, and of course I had to clean it. ”

Quanxi's eyes would follow the way you carefully made the coffee. The way you'd twirl the cup to make sure it was evenly distributed, and the way you'd add extra for her, even though she didn't ask for it. Nor did she really like how sweet it made the drink, but to her it was an act of kindness.

"Mm."

“Oh! and thennnn I had a lady come in here with her boyfriend and I guess I was a bit too friendly with her and she pulled me to the side and basically threatened me. I'm not one for wanting a guy in general. That was actually around a week ago and she came back a few days ago an—”

the glass pot to steam the milk in would fall to the ground instantly shattering. nothing but the thought of your boss chewing you out rushes into your mind. not only is it expensive to replace, it was definitely coming out of your paycheck. Quanxi wasted no time raising out of her chair and assisting you with cleanup even before you, yourself could process what had happened.

“thank you. god my boss is gonna make me pay for this. . . " you'd say squatting down and beginning to pick up the big chunks of glass first and placing them in your palm. “I'll get it, you might get cut. ” Quanxi would take the glass from out of your hand and continue to pick up where you left off.

"are you sure? I can just get a broom or something." you'd turn away for a second to grab the broom from the back, yet once you come back you find the glass all gone, not a single piece remaining on the floor and a note on the counter, sitting placed under two 10,000 yen notes. (around 140$)

the shock would spread across your face almost in an instant. what the absolute hell? picking up the notes, you'd take the time to read the note she'd left behind.

“𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓯𝓯𝓮𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓹𝓲𝓽𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓻. 𝓾𝓷𝓼𝓾𝓻𝓮 𝓱𝓸𝔀 𝓶𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓫𝓮, 𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓺𝓾𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓿𝓮.

𝓠𝓾𝓪𝓷𝔁𝓲 347-1782.”

✧─── ･｡ﾟ✧: * 🎀 .* :✧. ───✧

tired of there not being fuckin quanxi fics and smut bro. ik u stans r alive ACT LIKE IT!!!! 😡 k hope u enjoyed tho owo also im seriously fucking hoping this isn't ugly on pc bro.. idk but if ur reading fluff n shit on a pc u got balls cuz id cry if i got caught

#quanxi #quanxi smut #quanxi fluff #csm x reader #csm smut #csm fluff #quanxi x reader #wifey is back #quanxi csm #chainsawman

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